


Scarborough Fair

by gwyllion



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4575327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gwen is banished from Camelot for her indiscretion with Lancelot, Merlin misses the friendship he shared with her and Arthur. Arthur’s behaviour has taken a turn for the worse with Gwen gone—he sends Merlin to the stocks and overworks the knights whenever he gets the chance. Merlin works hard to convince Arthur to reunite with Gwen. He travels to Scarborough to give Gwen the news that Arthur will forgive her and take her as his queen, but only if she can prove her worthiness by completing a series of seemingly impossible tasks. Merlin uses his forbidden magic to help Gwen perform the tasks… the tasks that were meant to be completed by Gwen alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;  
Remember me to one who lives there  
She once was a true love of mine._

Merlin took the stairs two at a time until he arrived at Arthur’s door. The juice from the rotting tomatoes seeped under the laces of his tunic and dripped down his chest. The stickiness made him itch. After spending the morning in the stocks, he reeked of garbage, but instead of going directly to Gaius’s when the guards released him, he had been summoned to meet with Arthur in his chambers.

He was already in enough trouble with Arthur, so no good would come of disobeying his orders. Besides, Merlin wanted Arthur to smell the stench of the rotten fruit. He wanted Arthur to see the mess that was made of his loyal manservant’s clothing. It was enough to make any normal person feel guilty—maybe the sight of Merlin would make Arthur think twice about his punishment next time.

The children of the lower town were not to be blamed for their good aim, nor were the midsummer days that turned ripe fruit to mush in such a short time. The blame for Merlin’s condition lay squarely on the dollopheaded prat who had ordered Merlin to the stocks.

Bursting through the chamber doors, Merlin found Arthur where he had last left him, seated at the long table, a quill in his hand.

 _“Mer_ lin,” Arthur said, lifting his quill from the parchment. “Have you no sense of propriety? Why must you feel that you can barge into your king’s chambers without as much as a knock?”

Merlin dismissed Arthur’s question with a shake of his head. After all these years, Merlin should have known that Arthur would be more concerned with protocol than feeling any sort of remorse over the way he treated his manservant. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

Arthur’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. “What’s this mess?” Arthur asked, his eyes travelling up and down the sorry sight. “You look like you fell down the garbage chute.”

“The children in the courtyard—you have no idea how much spoiled fruit they had on supply,” Merlin said, raising his hands in frustration. The damp sleeves of his tunic, dark with juice, clung to his arms. “It’s been the warmest summer anyone in Camelot can remember. It doesn’t take long for the fruit to spoil after it has been cut. The children came armed with buckets of tomatoes, squash, even an eggplant.”

Arthur tilted his chin upward. “Perhaps if you mind your tongue from now on, you can avoid such punishment in the future,” he said. 

“The punishment was completely unfair,” Merlin said, planting his hands on his hips. “You can’t send me to the stocks every time I voice my concern for your well-being. You wouldn’t treat any other servant that way.”

Of course, Merlin had only spoken out of turn because he was concerned for his king. Lately, Arthur had been working on the training field from morning until night. Each of the knights had been to Gaius’s workshop this week, seeking treatment for bruised ribs and deep gouges made by an errant mace or wild sword. Just yesterday, after a particularly gruelling workout, Percival had collapsed in the stifling summer heat. It took a half-dozen men to carry him to Gaius.

After some comfrey and cold compresses, Percival stood upright again. But Gaius had cautioned him that any more heavy training when the sun was at its highest of the day would likely send him back to Gaius’s sickbed… or worse.

“And what is that smell?” Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin’s scowl.

Merlin ran his fingers through his sticky hair. He stopped to pick at the syrupy mess that dripped down his forehead. It had hardened into a firm gel. “I think it’s from the mouldy strawberries,” Merlin said, considering his stained fingers.

“Well, see to it that you get cleaned up. Lord Simeon will be arriving from Scarborough this afternoon and you’ll be expected to attend me,” Arthur said, dipping his quill into the inkpot. “And not a word about our discussion that sent you to the stocks this morning.”

“I only suggested that you missed Gwen,” Merlin said, his voice more whiney than he intended.

 _“Mer_ lin,” Arthur warned, pointing his quill at Merlin like a spear.

“There was no need for you to send me to the stocks. I only pointed out that you haven’t been yourself in the weeks since you exiled her,” Merlin stammered, searching for the words to explain Arthur’s behaviour. “You’re overworking your men. Last night, you sent back your dinner to the cook when she made your favourite meal. With Gwen gone, there’s no one who can mend armour nearly as well—”

“Get out,” Arthur said, pushing his chair back from the table.

“She was your friend,” Merlin said, backing toward the door. “And my friend, too. I won’t stop missing her. You can’t make me.” He folded his arms across his chest in defiance.

“Merlin, unless you want to find yourself in the stocks again today…” Arthur said with a raised eyebrow.

“Not again,” Merlin said, his shoulders dropping. “You wouldn’t.”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t,” Arthur said, standing. “Lord Simeon will be arriving at any moment and I need you to accompany me to greet him.”

“But I promised Gaius that I’d help him. Your men have used up so many of his supplies with all their injuries of late. He needs me to gather more herbs—parsley, sage, rosemary… I’d collect some thyme if you gave me time,” Merlin said with a grin. “Get it? Thyme? If you gave me enough—”

“Merlin,” Arthur shouted. He shook his head with exasperation. “I’ll grant Gaius your service this afternoon, but I’ll expect you to serve me in the banquet hall tonight.”

“Thank you, _Sire_. I’m sure Gaius will be grateful for my assistance,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes, “unlike a certain king I know.”

“Don’t be late for the feast. And perhaps you should wash the slime out of your hair,” Arthur said, shooing Merlin with a flick of his hand. “You smell like wilderen dung.”

“I’m not that bad,” Merlin said. “But if I wash my clothes after I help Gaius, it will take hours before they dry. I should be excused from serving you tonight. You’d hardly want your manservant trudging through the great hall in sopping wet clothes with Lord Simeon making a visit.”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that, Merlin,” Arthur said, his eyes roving over Merlin’s soiled tunic and breeches. “You’re expected to wear the official ceremonial robes of the servants of Camelot tonight.”

“But Arthur,” Merlin said, slinking toward the door. There was nothing Merlin hated more than the foolish outfit he was made to wear when important dignitaries came to Camelot.

“No excuses,” Arthur said. “I’ll expect you later tonight. Go.”

Before Merlin closed the door behind him, he heard Arthur shout “And don’t forget the hat.”

~

Merlin shuffled down the steps to the corridor that led to Gaius’s workshop.

He missed Gwen. As each day passed since her exile, it became harder to remember the times she had made Merlin smile. He was sure she’d be making fun of his feathered hat at the banquet tonight, if only she were there to see it.

Why couldn’t Arthur understand that he was wrong to exile her? This was her home. Since Morgana left to care for her ailing sister, the three of them had been so happy together.

In his capacity as Arthur’s manservant, Merlin had been allowed to accompany Arthur when he and Gwen picnicked in a grassy glade. Of course Merlin carried their lunch in his horse’s saddlebags and a soft blanket for Arthur and Gwen to sit upon. He poured the sweet wine and sliced the cheese for his friends.

Sometimes Gwen joined Merlin and Arthur on a hunt—the only _girl_ to ever do so. In the field, Merlin was the first to congratulate Gwen on a kill. She managed to use a crossbow, despite her small delicate fingers. Merlin usually only managed to scare the game away.

Gwen’s father had made sure that she was skilled not only in hunting, but in his trade, too. Gwen could forge a blade with the best smiths and her intricately carved handles were sought by not only Camelot’s finest knights, but from Camelot’s allies in the villages beyond. Merlin didn’t dare handle the swords. He often found himself flat on his back, staring at the point of Arthur’s practice sword when they roughhoused. Gwen’s laughter would draw Arthur’s attention, so Merlin could get up and brush the grass from his backside. Although he’d be embarrassed, he was grateful that Gwen never held his awkwardness against him.

All three friends would laugh together as they dipped their toes into a cool stream at the height of the day. The summer stretched on forever, it seemed.

When Arthur announced that he would marry Gwen, Merlin first felt a pang of jealousy. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he made his excuse to Gaius, explaining that they were tears of joy instead of sorrow. But inside his heart, Merlin feared that he would no longer be as welcome at Arthur’s side as he had been in the past.

Although he tried not to think about it, ever since Merlin arrived in Camelot and suffered the misfortune to be named Prince Arthur’s manservant, he couldn’t take his eyes off the prince. The simple brush of his fingers against Arthur’s neck while he dressed him made Merlin’s spine tingle for hours afterwards.

Arthur was a prat, and a royal one at that, but Merlin couldn’t entirely tamp down the feelings that plumped his cock, forcing him take himself in hand every night that he spent alone in his tiny bed. The quarters he shared in Gaius’s workshop were as lonely as they were depressing. Fantasizing about the prince always made sleep come quickly.

In the years that passed in Arthur’s service, Merlin often wished things had been different between him and Arthur—that they might be more to each other than a servant and master. But he managed to quell the heat that curled through his belly long enough to greet each dawn with good cheer, happily rousing Arthur from his sleep.

Merlin hoped that he might outgrow his feelings. He dreamed that he would to fall in love one day with a maiden from the village or a handsome stable-boy that would make him forget his feelings for Arthur.

But he never did.

The day Arthur announced that he would marry Gwen, Merlin swallowed a sob and waited until Arthur left his chambers for the training field. He hurried through his morning chores with the help of his magic before he borrowed a horse from the stables.

He rode into the forest and found his favourite place, a cool patch of grass that grew beneath an oak tree on the bank of a sparkling brook. Alone in the woods, he shed his tears.

He should have known that it was inevitable that Arthur would take a bride. He was a noble king. He couldn’t be expected to live his life alone with only his gangly servant by his side.

Merlin let the sounds of the forest soothe him. The gentle trickling of the brook comforted him. When he finished weeping, he tried to reflect on the good things that might come of a marriage between Arthur and Gwen.

For one thing, Gwen was fond of Merlin. And it seemed unlikely that she would restrict the time that Arthur spent with him. Merlin still needed to protect Arthur from those who would do him harm. As the dragon prophesied, Arthur would become a great king with Merlin’s help. Surely that bond would forever join the two men, whether Arthur took a wife or not.

When Merlin’s tears had finally dried, he was grateful that Arthur chose Gwen as his wife, instead of one of the many maidens that Uther had paraded before Arthur in the years before his death. Gwen was their friend. She was Merlin’s friend, and she would likely remain so for all of their days.

As the summer lingered, the trio’s happy times continued, just as Merlin had hoped they would. He and Arthur were as inseparable as ever and their devoted Gwen seemed destined to be a permanent part of their friendship in the many years that were surely to come. Merlin’s fears of being separated from Arthur had been unfounded.

Barely a month of summer had passed when Lancelot rode back into Camelot.

Merlin wasn’t sure what was said or done. The only thing he knew for certain was that one week after his arrival, Lancelot rode out from Camelot vowing to never return to the kingdom again.

Gwen left soon afterwards, exiled from the only home she knew.

Merlin’s heart broke when he remembered how Gwen had loaded all of her belongings into the cart without any help from her brother or any of the other maidservants who Merlin knew to be her friends.

Merlin’s loyalty to Arthur nearly tore him apart that day. He couldn’t very well go after Gwen to try to convince her to stay. Although she had been Merlin’s friend since he first arrived in Camelot, he couldn’t violate the king’s decree to banish her. Arthur would have his head.

Instead, Merlin had hidden in plain sight outside the block of cottages that Gwen had called her home for years. Merlin watched, standing like a stone in a meadow, unmoving, emotionless—too stunned by the reality of Gwen’s cart, the wheels squeaking with every turn as Gwen pushed it through the village gates. Someday, Merlin assured himself, he would make things right between them again. Merlin willed the creaking noise to fade beyond earshot, as if the silence would help him forget the tragedy of his lost friendship. 

Although he later pleaded with Arthur on Gwen’s behalf, Arthur refused to listen to him then, just as he did on this morning. Still, Merlin resolved to convince Arthur to reconcile with Gwen and let her return to her home. He took every chance he got to plead Gwen’s case, despite the discomfort of spending the day in the stocks.

Merlin rubbed the inside of each of his wrists where the skin had been rubbed raw. It was a small price to pay if he could bring Arthur closer to considering Gwen’s return.

~

Gaius stopped pouring the liquid into the beaker when Merlin entered the physician’s workshop. The scent of fresh herbs barely overpowered the stench of Merlin’s soiled clothing.

“Rough day?” he asked, looking up from the vials that lined his workbench.

Merlin leaned his back against the door and caught his breath. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said.

“The king is keeping you busy these days,” Gaius said. “I almost thought he’d relieve you of some of your more menial duties, now that he has so many other servants available to him since he’s been crowned.”

Merlin stumbled toward the washbasin and checked to see that there was water in the pitcher. “He’s awful to me,” he said, pouring water into the basin. “I think he keeps me on just to torture me.”

“I saw you in the stocks this morning,” Gaius said, pausing from his work. “I didn’t have the heart to stick around to watch the worst of it.”

Merlin slipped off his neckerchief and dipped it into the basin. He wrung out the water and used the cloth to dab at the stickiness on his forehead.

“You’ll never get clean using only the pitcher,” Gaius said. “I had some water drawn for you.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Merlin said gratefully throwing down his neckerchief. “But I promised that I’d help you with herbs today.”

“I’ve already finished picking them,” Gaius said. “They just need to be hung to dry.” He pulled the wooden tub from beneath the workbench and poured a waiting bucket of water into it. Only then did Merlin notice three more buckets of water that were perched on Gaius’s table among the baskets of herbs.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Merlin said gratefully. He strode to the tub and tested the tepid water with a pair of fingers.

“Whatever did you do to upset the king this time?” Gaius asked.

Merlin stripped off his tunic, the linen catching his ears as he pulled it over his head. He bunched it into a ball, taking care not let any rancid juice drip onto Gaius’s floor.

“I suggested that he might forgive Gwen and allow her back in Camelot,” Merlin said. “It would do wonders for the people’s spirits, and it might lift Arthur’s mood as well.”

“I should have known,” Gaius sighed. “You can’t be blamed for trying.”

“I wish he would take her back so things could go back to normal,” Merlin said, pouring another bucket of water into the tub.

“She put Arthur in a difficult position,” Gaius said with a raised eyebrow.

“Even if I could convince him to accept Gwen back in Camelot again, no one knows where to find her,” Merlin said. “I should have stopped her before she left. I hate myself for simply standing there.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gaius said. “There wasn’t anything you could do to help her, short of committing treason.”

Merlin kicked off his boots, letting them land quietly beside the tub half-filled with water. “I just watched her walk away from Camelot. What kind of friend does that?” Merlin asked, shaking his head. He reached behind his neck and scratched at the sticky clumps of hair along his nape. “I’ll never forget that day. I was numb. I couldn’t believe it was happening—that Gwen was truly leaving. I tried to intervene with Arthur later, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You can’t blame Arthur for wanting her gone,” Gaius said. “Love makes people vulnerable. He was hurt when it seemed that Gwen chose Lancelot over him.”

“No one has seen Lancelot either.” Merlin said. He returned to the washstand and grabbed a lump of soap. “I suppose I’ve lost his friendship as well.”

“From what I’ve heard, he’d be wise to never set foot in Camelot again,” Gaius said.

“Probably. But that doesn’t make me miss him any less,” Merlin said, stripping off his woollen socks. He tossed them across the room. They landed on the stone floor, just short of Gaius’s laundry basket. 

“He was your friend, as well,” Gaius acknowledged.

“Although it was wrong of him to come between Arthur and Gwen,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Arthur is king. What was Lancelot thinking?”

“Every man needs someone to love, someone to make him feel that life is worth living. He needs to feel that he is more than just himself alone in the world,” Gaius said thoughtfully. “Lancelot is no different.”

“And what about Arthur?” Merlin asked when Gaius turned around to give Merlin some privacy. “Doesn’t he need someone too?”

Merlin unhitched his belt and slipped out of his breeches. Naked, he poured another bucket of water into the tub, taking care not to spill the precious drops onto the floor.

Across the room, Gaius picked Merlin’s socks off the floor. “Do you think we can find another maiden to marry him?” he asked.

Merlin raised his eyebrows as he stepped into the tub. “If only it were that simple,” he said. “You’ve seen how he treated every princess that Uther called to court when he was alive. He’s never shown an interest in any of them.”

“No, Gwen was the only woman he’s ever paid any attention,” Gaius said.

“I wish there was a chance that he might welcome her back to the kingdom,” Merlin said, kneeling in the water, raising its level only a mere inch.

“Even if Arthur was to change his mind, you say no one knows where Gwen travelled when she left Camelot,” Gaius said.

“No, but if Arthur were to welcome her return, I’d stop at nothing to find her,” Merlin said, reaching for another full bucket of water to add to his bath. “She’s Arthur’s only hope for happiness and the kingdom’s only hope for a return to the way things were before.”

“Well, she couldn’t have gone too far,” Gaius said. “I’ll leave you alone to wash up.” Gaius hoisted the laundry basket into his arms. “Toss me your breeches and I’ll take our clothes to the laundry.”

Merlin leaned over the side of the tub for his breeches and added them to Gaius’s basket.

When the door closed behind Gaius, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the water warmed. He folded his slender body into the soothing bath, his long legs cramping until he sorted them out so they were comfortable. Although the day was oppressively hot, Merlin knew it would take a lot of scrubbing to loosen the grime from his skin. He turned the soap between his fingers, making a foamy lather.

Scooping up a handful of water, he let it cascade over his head from his palm. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong, he thought, as the water trickled into his eyes. Perhaps if he found Gwen first, then he could convince Arthur to allow her to return to Camelot, rather than the other way around.

Gwen had only been gone a few weeks. Surely if he asked the townspeople, someone might know where Merlin could look for her.

Merlin dragged the lump of soap across his chest, working the bubbles through his chest hair, sticky with fruit juice.

He could start looking for Gwen as soon as tomorrow, after he finished his duties for Arthur. If he used his magic to help complete his chores, he could have half the morning free, provided that he stayed out of the stocks.

But first he had to get tonight’s feast out of the way.

~

“And if everyone pulls together, Scarborough Fair will be the best venue for trade in all the five kingdoms,” Lord Simeon finished his speech.

A smattering of applause began in one corner of the banquet hall and travelled through the crowd, escalating in volume until it ended with Arthur himself. He clapped his hands together and stood at Lord Simeon’s side.

After the applause died, Arthur raised his goblet. “Let the merchants of Camelot fulfil Lord Simeon’s vision,” Arthur said. He laid a hand on Lord Simeon’s shoulder. “In two weeks’ time, our vendors and craftsmen will travel to Scarborough to sell their wares and trade their goods with others from the five kingdoms. If we work together to make this event a success, we will secure our friendship and allegiances with the people of the surrounding realms. Who knows? Maybe we can even make it an annual affair.”

The crowd erupted into more cheers.

Merlin huffed out a breath, pushing the ticklish feather off his face. He hated his serving hat with passion. The pitcher of wine weighed heavily in his hands. In the kitchen doorway, the din of the banquet hall prevented him from overhearing the servants’ whispers about who hoped to display their skills in Scarborough, the gossip from the cook’s assistants, and the speculation about the king’s prolonged bachelorhood.

Merlin stole a lingonberry tart off one of the trays as a serving girl walked by. He quickly gobbled it down and resumed his observation of the feast. Merlin’s foremost duty for the evening was to watch Arthur’s cup to see when it emptied. When it did, he swiftly moved to the king’s side to fill his goblet, careful to not spill anything on Arthur or his esteemed guests.

“You’ve cleaned up nicely,” Arthur said, his eyes roving over Merlin’s official ceremonial garb, “and you smell a bit better too.”

Merlin couldn’t help but be pleased that Arthur noticed that he smelled better. “As you commanded, Sire,” Merlin said with a bow.

With Arthur’s cup filled, Merlin moved past the dais and found Gaius at one of the long tables laden with roast quail, freshly sliced tomatoes, and platters of cheese.

“What’s so special about this Lord Simeon, anyway?” Merlin asked, nudging Gaius aside so he could sit on the bench beside him.

Gaius’s eyes drifted to the feathers that decorated Merlin’s hat.

“This grand fair that Lord Simeon has planned will be a great opportunity for the people of Camelot. Surely many traders and craftsmen will want to represent our kingdom there,” Gaius said. “It’s good for business.”

“Arthur seems keen for people to go,” Merlin said, setting down his wine pitcher and spearing a tomato slice with Gaius’s fork.

“We’ve got a supply of tinctures we could take to trade,” Gaius said. “Think of the time it will save the people of every realm if they are able to acquire our goods in Scarborough, where other vendors have gathered with us.”

“No more traveling to Camelot in the cold of winter when they need a remedy,” Merlin said, nibbling on a piece of cheese. “And we could stockpile a store of linen from Nemeth for bandages and slings without having to plead with Camelot’s villagers for rags when we run out.”

A serving girl brought a tray of lingonberry tarts to Gaius’s table. Merlin dove in.

“I’m glad you like the idea,” Gaius said. “Scarborough is a day’s ride from here for me. You’re younger and faster. I hope that you’ll go to make our trade with the merchants from the other realms. And lay off those lingonberries. You know they don’t agree with you.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open. “Oh, no… I can’t possibly go, Gaius,” Merlin said, finishing his tart. “I need to stay here to convince Arthur to take Gwen back. I planned to look for her tomorrow, but in the meantime I need to be here so I can keep working on Arthur.”

“Merlin, I’m too old to ride that far,” Gaius said. “You need to do something besides spending your days annoying Arthur. I thought I was doing you both a favour by getting you out of Arthur’s hair.”

“I can’t leave here and have Arthur work the knights half to death,” Merlin said. “Please Gaius, you can’t make me go.”

“Ah, well, I suppose I can seek out one of the other vendors to take our goods,” Gaius said, reaching for his spoon. “Really, Merlin, your attitude is going to land you in the stocks again.”

“Speaking of the stocks, Arthur has drained his cup again,” Merlin said, shoving his way off the bench and hoisting the pitcher.

“I’ll go with you so I can say goodnight to the king,” Gaius said, rubbing his belly. “It’s time I turned in for the night. Too much feasting gives me indigestion.”

“Come along then,” Merlin said.

Merlin led the way, bumping elbows with the hordes of people who filled Camelot’s great hall.

When he and Gaius reached the king’s table, Lord Simeon had handed a sheathed dagger to Arthur. The king drew the dagger from its scabbard and admired the blade.

Taking care to fill Arthur’s goblet, Merlin moved to Lord Simeon’s side.

“It’s fine work,” Arthur said, sheathing the dagger again. “And the handle, I’ve never seen work as intricate as this from the smiths of Scarborough.”

Arthur politely handed the dagger to Gaius so he could inspect the craftsmanship.

“It is fine, indeed,” Gaius said, examining the weapon.

Lord Simeon raised his empty goblet to get Merlin’s attention. “What’s more,” Lord Simeon said, “it was crafted by a seamstress.”

Gaius nodded to Lord Simeon.

“A seamstress produced such work?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not a smith or an armourer?”

Merlin’s eyes went to the dagger as he positioned his pitcher to pour. “We had a woman in Camelot who could produce work as fine,” he said. He couldn’t resist needling Arthur over Gwen.

“Merlin,” Gaius said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you take care of Lord Simeon and then go see if any of the other nobles need their goblets filled.”

Lord Simeon held his goblet steady for Merlin to fill. Merlin poured wine from his pitcher into the cup. Lord Simeon said, “It was crafted by a woman who recently settled in our kingdom. She’s highly skilled at forging. I believe she once dwelled in Camelot. She goes by the name of Gwen.”

Merlin caught the pitcher before it fell to the table, but not before Lord Simeon’s goblet overflowed onto the noble’s sleeve.

“Our Gwen is in Scarborough?” Merlin asked.

Lord Simeon reeled back from the table. He shook his hand like a cat shaking milk from its paw, scattering drops of wine.

Gaius set the blade on the table and found a cloth napkin to dry Lord Simeon’s sleeve with. “What a surprise,” he said.

Arthur’s eyes flared. “Well, I’m glad she found a place to dwell where her services are welcome,” Arthur said.

“Oh, they are more than welcome,” Lord Simeon said. “In just a few short weeks, she has made herself indispensable.”

Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s and he grinned smugly.

“Why, she’s already taken over the maintenance of the armoury,” Lord Simeon continued. “She’s helping to organize the stalls for the upcoming fair.”

“Enough about Gwen,” Arthur said. “Let’s finish talking about what sort of tradesmen from Camelot would have the most impact on the fair’s success.”

Lord Simeon pulled his chair up to the table again. “Certain goods are more necessary than others, of course,” he said.

“What about medical supplies?” Merlin asked, drying the side of the pitcher with a sleeve of his ceremonial robes. “Gaius plans to send me to Scarborough with our finest collection of tinctures. I hope I have success trading them there.”

Merlin tried to ignore Gaius’s groan as he left the high table.

~


	2. Chapter 2

_Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,_  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;  
Without any seam or needlework,  
Then she’ll be a true love of mine. 

“No!” Arthur shouted. “Parry first, then shift to the right. How will we ever defeat Camelot’s enemies if you can’t pay attention to orders?”

Arthur threw his practise sword so hard that the dull point wedged in the ground a few feet from his men.

Merlin tried to make himself useful, arranging the weapons on the rack according to how much each would need to be polished when training finally ended. It seemed that Arthur’s anger had increased since learning Gwen had settled in Scarborough.

Merlin was sure that Arthur missed her terribly. His behaviour must have been borne of jealous frustration that she had provided valuable services to Lord Simeon and the people of his kingdom. Gwen had been welcomed in Scarborough. Surely Arthur was angry that he couldn’t have Gwen all to himself.

“Again, on three. One, two, three,” Arthur shouted.

The men went to work, practicing their techniques, the sweat from the intense heat of summer soaking their tunics and making for a slippery grip on their weapons and shields. Leon swung a sword wildly at Elyan, catching him off-guard. In no time, Elyan was on his back, shaking off the cobwebs.

“You’ll have to do better than that to defend your sister’s honour,” Gwaine laughed as Leon helped Elyan to his feet.

Merlin’s eyes went wide as Arthur strode toward Gwaine with authority. He grabbed him by the back of his gambeson, nearly dragging it off his shoulders.

“Defend yourself,” Arthur shouted, drawing Excalibur from its sheath.

Merlin watched Arthur’s face, flush with fury.

“What?” Gwaine asked, his mouth gaping as if he was a fish out of water while he gestured toward Arthur’s gleaming sword.

“Arthur?” Merlin questioned.

“You heard me,” Arthur said, his jaw clenched tight, his knuckles white in their grip.

“Look, Arthur,” Gwaine said, raising his empty hands. “I meant it in jest, I didn’t—”

“You will address me as your king,” Arthur said.

“Yes, _Sire,”_ Gwaine said, shrugging his shoulders and straightening the front of his gambeson.

Arthur tried not to let his humiliation show as his men stopped what they were doing to watch. Apparently he had thought better of engaging in combat with a loyal knight. 

“The weapons in the armoury need polishing. Add to them the damaged swords from today’s training and there’s a lot of work to do. You are to help Merlin mend every last dented shield and nicked blade—and don’t return to the practise field tomorrow unless every one of my hauberks are perfectly oiled and polished. Do you understand?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, Sire, I’ll get right to it,” Gwaine said, bowing low.

Arthur’s eyes followed Gwaine as he picked up his helmet and trudged toward the weapons rack.

Merlin watched the vein pulsing in Arthur’s temple, such was his anger.

“See to it that the rest of you learn some respect for your king,” Arthur said, commanding the men’s attention with a voice that exuded authority.

Merlin watched as the men nodded in assent.

“That will be all for this morning,” Arthur said. He thrust Excalibur back into its sheath and stormed off to his chambers.

Relieved that Arthur had left the field without doing bodily harm to anyone, Merlin joined Gwaine in gathering the weapons and dented mail. Many pieces would need attention before the next practise.

Elyan clamped Gwaine’s shoulder. “Tough break, mate,” he said.

“Hadn’t you heard that Gwen settled in Scarborough?” Percival asked.

Gwaine stooped to pick up a sword. “I knew,” he said. “As usual, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“You’re lucky that your only punishment is to spend the day with me,” Merlin said with a grin.

“I can think of worse ways to spend the day,” Gwaine said.

“While Gaius was fixing my shoulder yesterday, he mentioned that you’re going to Scarborough, Merlin,” Leon said.

“Is that where the fair that everyone’s been talking about will be?” Gwaine said.

“It will last for more than a month,” Merlin said eagerly as he stacked another shield onto the cart.

“Gwen’s made a new life there,” Elyan said. “You’ll give her my best, Merlin? I plan to visit her there on the first day I get away from training.”

“Of course I will,” Merlin said, untangling the leather thong that formed the handle of a mace. “I’m sure she’ll welcome your visit soon.”

“I’m sorry we have to leave you two to your tasks,” Leon said. He ran a few steps from the practice field and turned back toward the men. “But I’m ready for a dip in the river.”

“I could go for that myself,” Elyan said, following him.

“I don’t suppose we’ll see either of you there,” Percival said as he dropped his practice sword onto the cart with the others.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Gwaine said. But Percival was already out of earshot, chasing Leon and Elyan as they headed for the river and the promise of a cool swim.

Merlin finished loading the last of the weapons onto the cart. Unlocking the brake, Gwaine helped him push the load from the practise field to the armoury.

“It’s kind of you to take word from Elyan to Gwen,” Gwaine said.

“I’m sure he misses her, maybe even more than I do,” Merlin said.

“It sounds like she’s happy in Scarborough,” Gwaine said.

“She may be,” Merlin said. “But I don’t think Arthur can bear to be without her. Look how he’s been acting since he exiled her. I hope she’ll be able to return home soon.”

“Gwen is a resourceful woman. I’m certain she’s saddened by the turn of events that led to her banishment, but these things happen. People grow and move on,” Gwaine said. “It seems like she’s found a new home in Scarborough.”

“Don’t you think she’d want to come back? Maybe if she knew her presence would help Arthur?” Merlin asked.

“Camelot was her home,” Gwaine said, stopping to adjust his grip on the cart handle. “You remember how difficult it was for you to leave your loved ones in Ealdor?”

“Of course,” Merlin said. “I still miss my mum. I visit her every chance I get.”

“But your home is in Camelot now,” Gwaine said. “It can’t have been too different for Gwen to have left Camelot, although the reasons were quite different, but it seems that Scarborough is her home now.”

“You don’t think she’d want to come back?” Merlin asked.

“Well, she’d no more disobey Arthur’s edict than she would risk her life. You can’t expect her to return to Camelot without Arthur asking her to return,” Gwaine said.

“She loved him,” Merlin said. “And he loved her. There must be a way to make him understand that he’ll be happier with Gwen. He can’t go on like this for much longer—overworking his men, threatening his servants, making you work with me.”

“Love is a funny thing, Merlin,” Gwaine said. “I think Gwen loved Lancelot too. It’s not always as clear as you make out to be. When you look at Arthur and Lancelot…” Gwaine said, weighing their imagined virtues on a scale of his hands.

“But we’re talking about Arthur,” Merlin said. “He’s the king. He’s brave, he puts the concerns of the people above his own. He’s strong. He’s handsome. He’s of noble blood, no matter that he behaves like a clotpoll most of the time.”

“Strong and handsome?” Gwaine asked with a chuckle. “It sounds like you’ve got eyes for The Princess yourself.”

Merlin blushed to the tips of his ears as they hauled the weapons cart through the doors of the armoury. Although Gwaine was his best friend, Merlin decided it would be wise to keep his feelings about Arthur to himself.

~

“I can tell that you miss her,” Merlin said. He closed his eyes and waited for Arthur’s response.

In the silence of Arthur’s chambers, he could hear Arthur’s quill stop dancing its path across the parchment.

Without looking up, Merlin felt Arthur’s eyes burning through him. His fingers toyed with the hem of Arthur’s sheets as he smoothed the edge down. 

“That will be all, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice clipped.

Merlin bowed his head low. He supposed he should be grateful that Arthur hadn’t thrown something at him.

“It’s just… at training the other day, with Elyan and Gwaine,” Merlin stammered. “Your reaction….”

Arthur remained silent, so Merlin dared to look his way. When he did, Arthur’s eyes went wide and he smiled broadly.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked.

“On second thought,” Arthur began. He rose from his chair and met Merlin at the bedside. “I understand you’re traveling to Scarborough tomorrow.”

“Gaius is sending me to trade some of our tinctures and herbs at the fair,” Merlin said, his breath catching in his throat.

“Well then, go ahead and give my message to Gwen. I’m asking her to return to Camelot, just as you desired,” Arthur said.

Arthur stood so close to Merlin that it made his knees feel weak.

“You’re joking,” Merlin said. He swayed against the bedcurtains and found a post of the wooden frame digging a groove into his back. He clutched for the support of Arthur’s arm, but missed. Instead, he sunk to the floor and drew his knees to his chest, his ratty brown jacket pooling around him on the polished stones. “It’s not right to tease me like this.”

“No, you’re mistaken. I’m not teasing. I’ll do it,” Arthur said, shaking his head at Merlin who sat on the floor. “I’ll take Gwen back and accept her as my queen and I expect you to deliver the news to her.”

Arthur reached for Merlin’s hands and hauled him up off the floor.

Merlin licked his lips trying to hide his smile. This news filled him with an overwhelming joy. Not only because Gwen would soon return to the castle, but because he would be Arthur’s emissary. He couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride at his new task.

“I’m so pleased, Arthur. I can’t wait to tell Gwen,” Merlin said, unable to stop touching Arthur. He wanted to embrace him for coming to the best conclusion on his own.

“Don’t get too excited,” Arthur said, his words echoing off the bedchamber walls. “She must first perform a task that will prove her worthiness.”

Merlin’s enthusiasm waned. “Her worthiness?” Merlin asked. His face fell. “What kind of task are you thinking about? Nothing dangerous, like walking over hot coals or fighting a dragon? Not to say that Gwen wouldn’t have some measure of success in a dragon battle, but—”

“Merlin, shut up,” Arthur said decisively. “I couldn’t ask Gwen to do anything of the sort.”

Merlin averted his eyes from Arthur’s. He picked at the cuff of his jacket. “Thank goodness,” he said under his breath.

“No,” Arthur said, stepping back from Merlin. “I will accept her as my queen if she completes a simple task.”

“I’m truly relieved to know that it is simple. I’m sure she’ll perform whatever you require of her,” Merlin said. “Just tell me what it is.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened in the haze of the candlelight as they did so often when he was serious, but Merlin had never seen Arthur as serious as he appeared now.

“What do you want her to do?” Merlin asked, worriedly.

“Tell her to make me a shirt,” Arthur said waving a hand in the air.

“A shirt?” Merlin asked, a giggle escaping him. Of all the tasks Arthur could have requested, this was the simplest. “Any particular kind of shirt?”

“A cambric shirt, like the ones that have become popular in the south,” Arthur said.

Merlin caught his tongue between his lips and thought about Arthur’s request. Marrying the king of Camelot seemed more than a fair bargain if all Gwen had to do was to make a shirt. Gwen was a skilled seamstress. Pulling off such a feat would be no more difficult than if Arthur had been asked to teach a sparring lesson to a stableboy. Merlin grinned.

“Gwen could do that easily,” Merlin said, pleased with the decision. “She’s one of the best seamstresses in the five kingdoms. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I tell her.”

Although Merlin was excited about Gwen’s imminent return, he felt a tiny bit put out. It had taken weeks for him to convince Arthur to allow Gwen back in Camelot, yet all he demanded as proof of her worthiness was a shirt? If Merlin had known it was going to be that easy, he would have had one of his old tunics on hand. Gwen had happily sewn together many of them in their years of friendship. He could have tossed Arthur one of the garments constructed by Gwen’s hand and called it a day. He scoffed at the simplicity of the idea.

“Without seams or needlework,” Arthur added. The bedchamber had grown darker with the disappearing rays of sunset.

“What?” Merlin asked. “How can she make such a shirt without seams or needlework… how would it hold together? That doesn’t seem like a particularly simple task.”

“Of course it is, Merlin. It wouldn’t be much of a challenge for a seamstress such as Gwen to sew up a simple shirt,” Arthur said.

Merlin sighed. Nothing was ever as simple as it first seemed. How could he have thought that anything involving Arthur and his feelings would be easy?

“There needs to be some challenge to it if I am to take the bold step of forgiving her and allowing her to return to Camelot,” Arthur said, “and to welcome her into my bed.”

The thought of Gwen and Arthur in bed was more than Merlin could bear. At once he was filled with the old familiar envy that Gwen would be allowed to share such intimacies with the king. He quickly put the thoughts of it out of his head. 

“As you wish, Sire,” Merlin said, making his way to the chamber door. “And if there’s nothing else, I’ll bid you goodnight.”

Arthur looked all too smug when Merlin closed the door behind him. In the guarded hallway, Merlin shook his head, glad to be out of the king’s presence when the thought of bedding Arthur swam through his head. He descended the stairs to Gaius’s workshop, wondering what kind of fool’s errand Arthur was sending him on.

~

Merlin felt the heat of the fire, even with his eyes closed.

He opened his mouth to scream, but the acrid smoke filled his throat and made him squeeze his eyes shut tight against the sting.

“No,” he pleaded, his voice a high whine in the night. But his feeble cries did nothing to draw the attention of anyone who could save him. His screams could not drown out the drumming of the men-at-arms who pounded the skins of their instruments, calling the people to assemble.

Merlin peered through the slit of his eyelids to watch the courtyard ablaze with fire that crackled from the wooden platform on which he stood. He tried to free his hands from the post where they were tied, the flames licking at his feet. If only he could reach out to grab Arthur’s cloak, to get his attention, to implore him to stay and free him, perhaps his burning flesh would someday heal. Perhaps there was still time. He could be saved, yes, if Arthur hurried.

But Arthur only touched his torch to the pyre, spreading the fire further.

“Arthur! Help me, Arthur,” Merlin choked out, his lungs burning with the effort.

Through the smoke, Merlin watched as Arthur only walked away, joining Gwen and the crowd of onlookers who had gathered in the courtyard.

Merlin tried to summon his magic to free himself from the flames, but it was no use. The power of the fire over his burning feet commanded his full attention. Was there no one in the courtyard who would help him? He watched the faces of his friends, his neighbours, the people who he had treated for sickness and injuries over the many years that he had been in Camelot’s service. Surely one of them would come to his aid, even if his dearest friend, Arthur, stood by with Gwen at his side, doing nothing to save him. But it was not to be.

There was no one with whom he had shared more of his heart than Arthur, although now it seemed as if his biggest secret had been divulged.

Magic.

Arthur would never accept it, and now he had chosen to kill Merlin for having it.

“Arthur, please!” Merlin cried, wasting one of the final breaths that remained in his lungs.

But Arthur barely noticed his suffering.

As the flames leapt higher, consuming Merlin’s breeches and singeing the hair on his legs, he screamed in pain, but everyone carried on as if they were at a festival, laughing and conversing with their friends that had gathered around the fire to see Merlin burn.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped, his heart pounding like the roll of thunder across the kingdom’s sky.

The wind whipped across the castle grounds, fanning the flames.

“Arthur, don’t leave me here,” Merlin cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Help me, please.”

Merlin’s face flushed with panic, his fingers clenched the sheets, the white knuckles flexing as he gripped and then struggled to free himself from the flames. He watched as Arthur stood in front of his throne, taking Gwen’s hand while his people looked on and welcomed her as his queen, leaving Merlin in the fire to burn.

“Arthur…” Merlin sobbed. “Arthur!”

“Merlin!”

Merlin sat bolt upright and the drumming stopped.

“Merlin, wake up,” Gaius said, giving Merlin’s shoulder a shake. “You’re having a bad dream.”

“Oh, Gaius,” Merlin said. “Thank the gods.”

Gaius sat at the edge of Merlin’s bed. The morning light filtered through the high window, bathing Merlin’s tiny room in soft light.

“If the entire castle wasn’t already awake, they are awake now, I’m sure,” Gaius said.

“It was awful,” Merlin said. “I couldn’t breathe because of the smoke that surrounded me.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His chest heaved up and down beneath his sleep tunic. 

Gaius pursed his lips. “I’ve told you to stay away from those lingonberries,” he said.

“I don’t think it had anything to do with berries,” Merlin said, reaching for the waterskin he kept by his bedside. “It was Arthur.”

Merlin took a sip of water to calm his panic.

“It sounded quite dramatic,” Gaius said. “Was the king injured? Was the castle on fire?”

“Worse than that,” Merlin said before dropping his voice to a whisper, “he found out about my magic.”

“Oh dear,” Gaius said, clasping a hand to Merlin’s forehead. “No wonder you were so worked up.”

“Yes, and he burned me at the stake,” Merlin said with a shudder. “All the villagers were there… and Gwen, too!”

“Gwen had returned to Camelot?” Gaius asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, and she was queen,” Merlin said. “At least some bits of the dream indicated my success at reuniting them.” He corked the waterskin and returned it to his bedside table.

Gaius shook his head. “This dream is but a product of your overactive imagination,” he said. “You’ve been quite preoccupied with bringing Gwen back to Camelot. I’m not surprised that you woke with this dream this morning.”

“I planned to leave for Scarborough today,” Merlin said swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Very well, but first you can help me pack the saddlebags with our wares,” Gaius said.

“I will,” Merlin said, his stockinged feet touching the cool stone floor. “Just as soon as I’ve brought Arthur his breakfast.

“There’s no need for that,” Gaius said. “Arthur stopped here at dawn on his way to a hunt.”

Merlin’s shoulders dropped. “A hunt?” he complained.

“He left with Leon and Elyan this morning,” Gaius said. “I don’t imagine they’ll be back before you leave.”

Merlin sunk back into his mattress. He was disappointed that Arthur hadn’t told him he planned a hunt this morning. He wouldn’t have a chance to say goodbye before he left for the fair.

“But he left me with a message to give you,” Gaius said. He rummaged through the long folds of his robes.

“Why didn’t you wake me if he was here?” Merlin asked.

“He said not to bother,” Gaius said. He handed Merlin a scrap of parchment. “He told me that you would know what he meant by this.”

Merlin took the parchment from Gaius and read.

_Tell her to wash it in yonder dry well, where never sprung water nor drop of rain fell…_

_Then she’ll be a true love of mine…._

~

“Tell her to hang it on yonder sharp thorn?” Gwen read, confused.

“Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,” Merlin continued. “Then she’ll be a true love of mine.”

Merlin glanced at the piece of parchment Gwen held between her hands, her slim fingers pointing at the text as he read Arthur’s words.

“Merlin, this is ridiculous,” Gwen said. “Why would he think that I would return to Camelot, even if I could complete such a task?”

Merlin exhaled loudly, dismayed that Gwen was not inspired with confidence about Arthur’s plan to allow her back in Camelot. “I’m sure he wants you to come back,” Merlin said, rolling the parchment and returning it to his pocket. “This proves it.”

“He banished me, Merlin,” Gwen said, turning away. “He sent me away from everything and everyone I loved. He can’t expect me to forget what he’s done.”

The main road in Scarborough buzzed with activity. Although the fair was not scheduled to begin for a few days, both vendors and buyers alike crowded the stalls that lined the central square. The smell of fried dough and roasted boar wafted above the fabric curtains that separated each stall from the next.

“I know it wasn’t fair to you,” Merlin said with a loud sigh. “That’s why I’ve worked so hard to convince him that he was wrong to send you away. And now, he knows it too.”

“You had to work hard to convince Arthur that what he did was wrong?” Gwen asked, tapping her foot.

“No,” Merlin said realizing his mistake. “It wasn’t as if it was that hard. We miss you. We need you in Camelot.”

A pair of craftswomen approached Gwen with a cart of brightly-coloured scarves.

“Excuse me, we were told to ask you where we should set up our stall?” the tall woman asked Gwen.

“Let me check what I have available,” Gwen said. She consulted a wide map of Scarborough’s fairgrounds that was mounted to a wall of her enclosure. Her fingers moved deftly over the rows of rectangles that represented each vendor’s market stall.

Merlin had expected Gwen to look terrible since leaving Camelot weeks earlier. He had feared he would find her thin and worn down, but she looked healthy and happy. Her robust smile assured the craftswomen that she had allotted them the best possible location from which to display their wares. They thanked her and pushed their cart along the smooth cobblestones.

“You say I’m needed in Camelot,” Gwen said, “but as you can see, I’m needed here, as well.”

Merlin caught the tone of hurt in Gwen’s voice. Surely she had been offended by Arthur exiling her, but now was not the time to let hurt feelings come between her and the king, her former betrothed.

“The fairgrounds may make a nice home for a month or so,” Merlin said. “But what will you do when the fair ends? The only reason you came here was because you knew you could get work for at least a few weeks—”

“Merlin,” Gwen said. “I am completely capable of making my own decisions about where to live.”

Merlin wrung his hands as if searching for something that could convince her to return. “Couldn’t you just _try_ to make a shirt as Arthur specified?” he asked. “If not for Arthur’s sake, for mine?”

Gwen looked up and down the road.

“Let’s take a little walk,” Gwen said.

Merlin was all too happy to get Gwen away from the busy fairgrounds. Perhaps if they could talk privately, Merlin would stand a better chance of convincing her to make the shirt that would allow her to return to Camelot. He willingly took her arm and followed her down one of the many small streets that led from Scarborough’s main road to the countryside.

“Merlin,” Gwen said. “You’re one of my dearest friends, and if I could do anything to make you feel better, you know that I would.”

Merlin finally sighed with relief. “Then you’ll make the shirt?” he asked.

Gwen stopped outside a small house with a thatched roof. Beside the house, a stone entryway led to a walled garden, blooming with the colours of summer.

“Merlin,” she said, “you know Arthur is stubborn. I think he’s made this shirt nonsense up.”

“But he will take you back,” Merlin insisted. “Trust me. I may not know a lot about love, but I do know that I want to help you.”

“Even if I wanted to go back to Camelot,” Gwen said, “I can’t make a shirt without seams or needlework. How will the garment be held together? And to wash it in a dry well? How would it become clean? And to hang it on a thorn that never blossomed. Arthur’s request is entirely ridiculous.”

Merlin had thought a lot about this on his way to Scarborough. As he had feared, Gwen was reluctant to even consider making the shirt for Arthur. But he had a plan that would ensure that the shirt got made and Gwen could return to Camelot.

“I’m going to help you,” Merlin said.

“How are you going to help me?” Gwen asked with a laugh. “The last I knew, you couldn’t even sew a clasp onto an old woollen cape.”

“Do you trust me?” Merlin asked nervously. “Because I trust you, and I believe you never intended to cause Arthur harm. If I truly thought you meant any malice toward him, I could never trust you as much as I do right now. I could never trust you enough to show you something secret.”

“What are you on about?” Gwen asked, waving a dragonfly away from her hair. “I really should be getting back to my stall.”

“Watch,” Merlin said.

Merlin held his outstretched hand in the air. Soon, in the space above the trees of the walled garden, tiny fluffs of cloud wisps gathered in the brilliant blue sky. Merlin shifted his hand and the wisps moved together, each one falling into place as the petals of a snow white flower formed above their heads. Gwen gasped slightly, but Merlin ignored her and concentrated on the task at hand. The white flower bloomed, its petals opening as if it were a daisy in springtime.

“Merlin,” Gwen said, squinting into the summer sky. “Do you see that?”

“See it?” Merlin said, with a soft confidence. “I more than _see_ it.”

“Oh, you?” Gwen said, grasping Merlin by the wrist as the flower petals fell away from the flower’s centre and scattered across the sky. “You have magic?”

Merlin lowered his hand and looked into Gwen’s eyes. Above their heads, the flower petals joined together again, before closing as a tiny bud and disappearing in a wisp of white.

“I have magic,” Merlin said.

“Oh Merlin, you’d be killed for this,” Gwen said. “Arthur will kill you himself.”

“It’s the chance I take every day,” Merlin said. “I was born with magic and I use it for Arthur, only for him—to help him, to protect him. And to bring him happiness that will come when you return to Camelot.”

Gwen looked worried. “You’ve had this secret all this time?” she asked, her hands covering her mouth. “You’ve hidden it from Arthur, from the court, from Uther? He’d have you burned on the pyre, if he were still alive.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Merlin said, resting his hands on Gwen’s shoulders. “You must promise me.”

“I won’t,” Gwen promised. “I won’t ever tell, but I could never believe that you are evil. Never! If Arthur tries to kill you, he’ll have to kill me first.” 

“No, Gwen, nothing like that will ever happen,” Merlin said, biting his lip. “Arthur will never find out. I’ve only trusted the people closest to me to keep my secret.”

“Who else knows?” Gwen asked, conspiratorially. “I suppose Gaius… and your mum?”

“Lancelot knew,” Merlin said, looking away.

“Lance…” Gwen said wistfully.

“You haven’t heard from him, since he left Camelot?” Merlin asked. He missed Lancelot and if there were a chance that he too could come to Scarborough, Merlin would not hesitate to visit him.

“No,” Gwen said, shaking her head slowly, “not a word.”

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Merlin said. “The least I can do to help you would be to make sure you are welcome back in Camelot.”

“Even if I were keen on returning to Camelot, how would I make such a shirt?” Gwen asked.

“I can use my magic to help you complete your task,” Merlin said. “I can make the shirt with magic, I can assemble it without a seam, and the magic will hold it together.”

“I don’t know, Merlin,” Gwen said with an arched eyebrow. “Won’t it be dangerous to use magic? This shirt is something that Arthur will inspect closely. What if he finds out you used magic to make it?”

“He’s going to think that _you_ wove it, if you’ll only agree to let me try. At times like this, it helps to be brave,” Merlin said. “Think of Lancelot. He was the bravest knight I ever knew. What would he do?”

“I never meant for him to get in trouble, you know,” Gwen said, her eyes aglitter with tears. “He only kissed me—that was all. Still, it was brave of him, knowing how Arthur would feel about it if we were caught.”

“And you were caught,” Merlin said. “I may not know much about such things, but I know Lancelot never meant you or Arthur any harm.”

“If I returned to Camelot,” Gwen said. “Perhaps I could explain myself better to Arthur.”

Merlin was relieved that he made some progress. If he could reunite Arthur and Gwen, things could finally back to normal. He took Gwen’s hands in his own. Gwen wanting to explain her indiscretion to Arthur was a start.

“That’s the spirit! What do you say, Gwen?” Merlin asked. “Do you want to go home?”

“I do,” Gwen said. “But only because it’s you offering to help me.”

“Let’s make that shirt,” Merlin said softy. He was so excited that Gwen would allow him to use magic to help her that his knees went weak.

Merlin took Gwen’s hand and his eyes flashed with gold.

~

When Merlin’s eyes returned to blue, he and Gwen were in a wooded glen, further still from the noisy fair.

Gone were the sounds of the tradesmen and vendors, the children begging their parents to buy them a sweet when the fair began. The forest was as silent as the night after a feast in Camelot, with nobles and peasants sound asleep and waiting for the next activity of the day to rouse them.

Soon, Merlin found what he was looking for, a field of flax as wide as Camelot’s sparring grounds. The ripe flax swayed in the breeze beneath the bright sun. He studied the field to make certain he was in the right place, using his magic to see further into the woods beyond the field.

Gwen remained silent. Merlin suspected that she didn’t dare ask how they got so far from the outskirts of the village. Merlin felt lighter now that he no longer needed to shield the gold of his eyes from Gwen when he did magic in her presence. He had kept the secret long enough on his own. It felt good to relax his internal grip on his special talents.

His vision magically scanned the ground and through the trees until he saw a dark cave where the essence of moist earth was strangely absent. The roof of the cave sheltered a deep hole in the ground where no rain fell within its rocky walls.

“We need to check this out before we get started,” Merlin said.

Gwen nodded and bit her lip.

Merlin had to be certain that this was the right place. He tramped softly through the woods, with Gwen following close behind him.

As they descended into a rocky valley, Merlin found what he was looking for. Among the boulders, the dark mouth of a cave stood out among the grey stones. At the cave’s entrance, he looked back to Gwen to make sure she wasn’t frightened. She still looked determined, so he stepped inside the cave with her.

He walked through a passageway, pushing aside cobwebs, touching the walls, the feel of dirt beneath his boots. When he could no longer see because of the darkness, he held out his hand and muttered, _“Leoht.”_

An orb of light appeared in his hand, illuminating the small cavern.

Gwen’s eyes lit up when she saw the miniature lightning bolts of blue light within the orb.

“Here,” Merlin said, leading Gwen to the centre of the cave where an ancient well stood.

They both peered down into its seemingly endless depth.

“Hello?” Gwen yelled into the well, as if she were a small child.

Merlin smiled when Gwen’s voice echoed back to her. It was a good sign, but another test remained. Merlin hunted around on the ground for a rock to cast into the well. Finding one, he said, “Here goes,” before dropping the stone inside. 

Gwen tilted her head to listen for the stone to splash into the water that the well surely contained.

Merlin smiled when he heard the thunk of the rock hitting the solid ground at the bottom of the well.

“It’s dry,” Gwen said hopefully.

“We can wash the shirt here,” Merlin said, a sigh of relief shuddering through him.

“Tell her to wash it in yonder dry well,” Gwen said, recalling the poem.

“Where never sprung water, nor drop of rain fell,” Merlin continued. “Then she’ll be a true love of mine.”

“And look!” Gwen said. 

In the corner of the cave, a thorny bush grew. Judging by how brittle and barren the branches were, Merlin doubted it ever had bloomed. It was a wonder that it had taken root in the dirt of the cave floor in the first place. Gwen tested its branches, which were so dry and brittle that one of them snapped off in her hand.

She held it up to show Merlin.

“Careful,” he said. “We don’t want to spoil our chances of success.”

“You think this will work, Merlin, you really do?” Gwen asked excitedly.

“Come on,” Merlin said. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Merlin took Gwen’s hand and illuminated their way back out of the cave with the orb of light. The day had grown long while they were in the cave, and the sun had already begun to fall.

At the field of flax, Merlin stood with his hands on his hips. He closed his eyes and concentrated while Gwen watched. With both arms outstretched, Merlin chanted to the field.

When he opened his eyes, he saw each plant issue forth a spire of flax thread. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as the threads spooled out from their hosts above the field. With a wave of Merlin’s hand, the threads separated from the plants and hung suspended by an invisible force that shook them straight.

Merlin chanced a glimpse at Gwen’s face. Her mouth had fallen open and her eyes were blown wide.

When all the threads and fibres were straight in a row, Merlin took each one and wove it with a flash of his golden eyes and a twist of his fingers. Soon, he had a piece of fabric the size of his neckerchief.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Gwen asked, as she watched in amazement.

Merlin felt badly about not involving Gwen as much as he’d like. He was sure she wanted to feel a part of the activity, but truly it was enough that she was here to support him, to watch him use his magic without being judgemental.

“No, I’ve got this,” he said, his tongue trapped between his lips in concentration.

The fabric fluttered in the breeze as Merlin added more threads, one by one, stretching and tugging the fabric with the sheer power of his mind as he shaped the threads into a garment without seams or needlework necessary to hold the piece together. No, this was one piece of fabric in all, each delicate thread stretched to exactly the correct level of tautness so it formed a shirt—the shirt Arthur demanded to win his love. The shirt that, when completed, would reunite Gwen with Arthur.

Merlin hoped he would live to see the day when Arthur ruled over all Albion in peace, unlike the disagreeable boor he had become since Gwen had been caught with Lancelot. His put his full concentration into accomplishing the task of producing the shirt, knowing that this was proof of Gwen’s faith in Arthur.

As the sun began to set, Merlin could see that he only needed a few more threads before the shirt was finished.

“It’s nearly done,” Gwen said, marvelling at the shirt.

“There,” Merlin said, finishing the last tug of thread.

The shirt was complete.

Merlin manoeuvred his hand so that the shirt rose in the air and drifted across the field to where he stood with Gwen. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion from the feat. It had taken him a lot longer than he had thought it might. He wished he could take a nap to conserve his energy for the remaining parts of the task, but time was short if he hoped to return to Camelot with the shirt in the morning. 

He shrugged when Gwen grasped the shirt and held it to her chest. Bits of thread danced into the moonlight and swirled around them both.

“Now, we must take it into the cave,” Gwen said, excitedly.

“You’ve got the idea,” Merlin said. He followed her, illuminating the cave’s mouth in the darkness with his glowing orb of light.

Soon, they both stood at the well.

“The shirt looks fantastic, but do you think Arthur will accept it?” Gwen asked.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Merlin said. “We need to wash it clean.”

Merlin watched Gwen chew on her lip. Her smooth skin glowed in the light from the orb.

“It doesn’t need to be washed with water, remember,” Merlin said.

“Do you have that parchment?” Gwen asked.

Merlin shoved a hand into the pocket of his jacket and brought forth the scrap of parchment on which he had the instructions Gaius had given him from Arthur.

Spreading the parchment open, Merlin checked the wording while Gwen read over his shoulder.

“Where never sprung water, nor drop of rain fell,” Merlin continued. “Then she’ll be a true love of mine.”

“We’ll learn soon enough if it works,” Gwen said raising her eyebrows.

Merlin crumpled the parchment into his pocket again. With a flick of his fingers, he directed the light orb to hover above the well. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, his eyes meeting Gwen’s.

She nodded and unclasped the shirt from her bosom.

“Here, Merlin,” Gwen said. “I know you’ll do your best.”

Merlin took the shirt from her and sent it adrift in the air of the cave. Moving the orb aside, he curled his fingers, and the shirt was plunged into the well.

He felt Gwen’s breath hitch as the whoosh of air began to disturb the silence in the cave. With a turn of his wrist, Merlin directed the wind to whirl.

Around and around the wind blew, scouring the walls of the cave around them, encircling the stone well. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gwen, braced against the wind as her hair flew wildly around her face. Merlin clenched his jaw, his lips thin. Pointing his finger from the maelstrom to the well, he directed the wind into the stone well itself.

“But the shirt is in there,” Gwen cried.

“It’ll be fine,” Merlin shouted, hoping to reassure her. “Watch and see.”

Merlin could barely look into the well, such was the tumultuous wind that tossed the shirt within, spinning the garment around the interior of the well until none of the flax seeds or errant fibres that had been caught in Merlin’s weaving remained. When he was satisfied that the shirt had been thoroughly washed by the wind, Merlin gestured for the storm to cease.

In the sudden silence, Gwen stared wide-eyed as the newly-clean shirt floated from the well into her arms.

Exhausted, Merlin stumbled backwards to rest against the wall of the dank cave.

“Merlin, are you all right?” Gwen asked, rushing to his side.

“Just tired,” Merlin said. “Using such powerful magic takes a lot out of me.”

“It was very impressive,” Gwen said, smoothing a hand across Merlin’s arm. “Have you ever thought of… maybe… showing Arthur someday?”

Merlin sighed and hung his head.

“I’d love to,” he said. “I’d give anything for Arthur to know the real me, to know that I’m capable of so much more than polishing his armour and wiping the mud from his boots, but—

“He wouldn’t kill you,” Gwen said. “I’ve been thinking, now that I know about your magic. He cares for you, as much as I do. I know he does. He’d never hurt you.”

“I can’t take that chance,” Merlin said sadly. “You remember how Uther led the purge that killed so many magic users. I have my mother to thank that I was not among them. She kept me close to her side for as long as she could. I stayed in Ealdor until I was grown and knew how to hide my magic from the people who might harm me.”

“There’s no need to be scared of Arthur,” Gwen said. “He’s not like Uther.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said. “The way Arthur has been behaving lately, I wouldn’t put it past him to kill me if he found out. I’ve been having bad dreams about him setting a torch to a pyre since you left Camelot—and I’m on the pyre!”

“Well, maybe we can put an end to that, here and now,” Gwen said. “I’m so sorry. I feel like I am the cause of all this. If only I hadn’t kissed Lance—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Merlin said, shifting away from the wall. “You’re doing the right thing now. You’ll make amends and Arthur will have you back. I think we’re on our way to sorting out this mess.”

Merlin stood, and Gwen held the shirt out to him. “It’s damp,” she said, petting the fabric smooth with her palms.

“You know what we have to do next,” Merlin said, taking the shirt from her. “It’ll be dry by morning.”

He walked to the barbed bush, and stretched the shirt to dry upon the thorns of the wizened branch. By the glow of the orb, Merlin took time to arrange the shirt so it would dry, spreading its seamless sleeves in the spaces between the branches.

Satisfied that he had completed the task, he led Gwen to the wall of the cave, taking the glowing orb with him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they settled on the dusty floor and slept.

~

“And she made this herself?” Arthur asked. His jaw gaped open, waiting for Merlin’s reply.

“She did, Sire,” Merlin said, holding the shirt up for Arthur to inspect. “Gwen is beautiful as she is talented, but you always knew that.”

“It’s just that I’ve never seen such a garment before,” Arthur said.

Arthur took a sleeve of the shirt in his hand and examined it. No seams of any kind held the piece together, but elaborate pleats and the varying lengths of threads made the cuffs at the ends of the sleeves fold as neatly as if they had been made by a talented tailor.

Merlin was thrilled that Arthur seemed to approve of the work.

“And she followed the instructions exactly, did she?” Arthur asked.

“Of course. She followed them explicitly, washed in in a dry well, hung it on a blossomless thorn,” Merlin said. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and back again, worried that Arthur doubted his words.

Arthur stepped closer, dropping the sleeve.

Merlin became keenly aware that Arthur’s eyes focused not on the shirt, but on Merlin’s mouth.

“And she made the shirt all by herself?” Arthur asked again, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Merlin lowered his eyes. Arthur was standing so close now that Merlin could catch the scent of the herbs Arthur used to perfume his bathwater.

“She had no help?” Arthur pressed on.

“Well, you don’t think that I helped her with it, do you?” Merlin said with a shrug.

“No, I don’t suppose you could have made such a shirt,” Arthur said. “You can hardly find your own backside most days, isn’t that right?”

Merlin did his best to hide his annoyance from the king. “I don’t know how to weave anything, but Gwen has long been talented at making such handcrafts. It’s the truth,” he said, hoping that he looked innocent.

“I’d never have reason to doubt you,” Arthur said, all too suspiciously for Merlin’s liking. “Should I?”

Arthur took the shirt hanger from Merlin and tossed the shirt onto his bed.

“Don’t,” Merlin said, stepping toward the bed. “You’ll wrinkle it.”

Arthur stood in Merlin’s way, stopping him from moving toward the bed. His hands went to his hips as he waited for Merlin to answer.

Merlin swallowed. He could hear only his own breathing in the warm bedchamber. Arthur’s proximity had made Merlin’s trousers uncomfortably tight.

Arthur circled Merlin predatorily in front of his bedstead. His boots made a short tapping sound on the cool stone floor.

Arthur stopped in front of Merlin. “I only asked because you seem awfully pleased with yourself,” Arthur said.

Merlin looked at the floor and tried not to smile, though he was pleased indeed. “I simply carried out your wish as you requested it. I informed Gwen of what she could do to win your forgiveness and she complied,” he said.

“Happily?” Arthur asked.

“Quite happily,” Merlin nodded.

“She seemed quite happy to be a true love of mine?” Arthur asked.

The silence between them grew heavier. Merlin blinked furiously, certain that Arthur had learned the truth about the shirt. Of course Gwen would happily be Arthur’s true love, Merlin thought. Who wouldn’t be, in truth? “Very much so,” Merlin said. “Yes.”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped. He glanced behind Merlin to where the shirt lay on the bed. Turning toward Merlin, Arthur toyed with the laces at his neckline before lifting the hem of his tunic over his head. “I think I should try the shirt on, don’t you think?” he said. “To make sure it fits properly.”

“You know best, Sire,” Merlin said. He bit his tongue, trying to ignore the effect Arthur’s naked chest had on his cock. He reached for Arthur’s tunic and untangled Arthur’s arms from its sleeves.

Tossing the tunic onto the floor, Merlin next took the shirt he had brought from Scarborough and lifted it over Arthur’s head.

“There,” he said, stepping behind Arthur. He smoothed the fabric so it lay flat across Arthur’s back. “It’s a perfect fit.”

Merlin’s fingers left Arthur’s back when Arthur walked toward the mirror. In the candlelit bedchamber, Arthur studied his reflection.

Merlin followed Arthur to the mirror. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for Arthur to speak.

“Tell me, Merlin, do you know what it is to find true love?” Arthur asked.

Taken aback by the question, Merlin fidgeted. “No, Sire, I don’t,” he said. “As you may recall, I left my mother’s house when I was still a young boy. I’ve hardly had time for romance since your father named me as your manservant all those years ago.”

“Surely there was someone who loved you?” Arthur asked, turning to face Merlin. “A maiden won and lost, perhaps?”

Before Merlin could answer, Arthur reached across the space between them. He traced Merlin’s cheek with his fingers, the calloused fingertips catching on Merlin’s skin like a rough blade on fine silk.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Merlin replied, his breath a whisper.

“And you’ve had no woman since you left Ealdor?” Arthur asked.

Merlin felt the tips of his ears burn crimson. It seemed that Arthur rather enjoyed making him squirm. A broad smile had broken across the king’s face.

Merlin averted his eyes from Arthur’s smile. Instead his gaze travelled to the front of the shirt that his magic had made. He caught a glimpse of Arthur’s chest hair at the edge of the neckline. He fought the urge to lick his lips when he remembered the lovely bronze skin that he knew lay beneath. He bit back a moan when he wondered how Arthur’s throat would look when it was mottled with love’s kisses. The thought of it sent a pang of desire to Merlin’s cock.

“No, Sire,” Merlin said with a gulp. “I’ve been committed to serve you and Camelot alone since I arrived here.”

A soft breeze blew through the open window, making the candles stutter.

“Do you know what it’s like to kiss, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Merlin exhaled. “Arthur, why are you doing this?” he asked.

Merlin felt awkward in such a position. He was torn between his lust for Arthur and his commitment to ensuring Gwen would be welcome back in Camelot.

He felt the blush rise on his cheeks. As Arthur moved closer, Merlin closed his eyes, his lashes shyly lowered as if to shut out the invasion Arthur’s taunting words on Merlin’s noble intentions.

“You’ve never?” Arthur asked quietly.

Merlin shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed by his inexperience in matters of love. He heard Arthur inhale deeply. In the next moment, Merlin felt Arthur slide his broad hand around the back of his neck.

Merlin’s eyes flew open at the contact and he lifted his chin to face Arthur.

Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips against Merlin’s.

Merlin gave a tiny moan, as if someone had just surprised him by handing him a handful of the rarest herbs he sought in the forest.

Arthur tested the seam between Merlin’s lips and Merlin rewarded him with an even louder moan. Merlin surprised himself with his vocalizations, but his belly felt like he had just plunged off a rocky cliff. Arthur tightened his grasp on Merlin’s neck and slid his tongue into Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin shuddered against the newness of the feeling. The soft tickle of Arthur’s stubble against Merlin’s cleanly-shaven cheek made him tingle.

Merlin let his hands gingerly creep up Arthur’s arms, his fingers tentatively touching. Then, getting a better hold on himself, Merlin pushed Arthur away.

“Arthur, you must stop,” Merlin said.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, catching his breath.

“I can’t… Gwen,” Merlin said. “You have promised yourself to Gwen.”

He paced around the room, as nervous as a cat in the castle kitchen on wash day.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Merlin said, gesturing between the two of them with wild hands.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I should not have… taken advantage. I’d never force you to do something you would regret. You mean too much to me, Merlin.”

“You’re meant to forgive Gwen,” Merlin said. Flustered from the kiss, he suggested further explanations, “Perhaps you’re simply lonely. You miss her. You were just reaching out. Or perhaps it was the wine speaking?”

“The wine,” Arthur repeated with a nod. He glanced around his chambers for a goblet of wine, but there was none.

“We can forget about it,” Merlin said, biting his kiss-reddened lips. I’ll prepare to ride for Scarborough in the morning, to bring Gwen back to Camelot, to tell her she’s forgiven.”

Arthur looked teary-eyed.

“I think that finding true love can’t be as simple as this,” Arthur said, his hands indicating the rumpled shirt.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked. He was already halfway to the door.

Before Merlin could fumble the latch open, Arthur stopped the door from closing with his hand. “Tell her to find me an acre of land, between the salt water and the sea strand,” Arthur said.

“Very well then, Sire,” Merlin said. “Whatever you wish.”

Merlin heard the door close behind him as he descended the steps.

~


	3. Chapter 3

_Tell her to find me an acre of land,_  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;  
Between the salt water and the sea strand,  
Then she’ll be a true love of mine. 

“I don’t know, Gaius,” Merlin said when he made it safely inside Gaius’s workshop. “This poetry shit is getting deep.”

Gaius snorted. “Language, Merlin,” he said. His eyes roved over Merlin’s excessively wrinkled clothing and rumpled hair. “What on earth happened to you?”

Merlin’s shoulders slumped. “I brought Arthur the shirt that he wanted from Gwen,” he said, stripping off his jacket and his neckerchief, which dangled askew.

“And how did it go?” Gaius asked. “Will he welcome Gwen back to Camelot?”

“Everything seemed fine until the conversation became all about Arthur and his feelings,” he said with a sigh.

“Feelings? The only feelings I’ve noticed Arthur expressing lately are the ones of anger that end up with you in the stocks,” Gaius said.

“Oh, believe me, that’s the last thing that will happen to me now,” Merlin said. He went to the basin and splashed his face with cold water.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “What happened when you gave Arthur the shirt? Did he at least see reason where Gwen is concerned?” Gaius asked.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it _reason_ ,” Merlin said, drying his face on a sheet of linen, and hoping that Gaius didn’t notice any reddening the king’s stubble might have left on his skin. “Not only does he seem to have a complete change in plans, but he also assigned Gwen a new task to perform.”

“But I thought she was supposed to make a shirt and that was the end of it?” Gaius said.

“It’s gotten a bit more complicated than that,” Merlin said, drying his hands. He wished he could tell Gaius the truth, but he feared that his mentor would go mad if he told him that he used magic to make the shirt for Gwen. “I have to ride back to Scarborough to give Gwen the bad news.”

“Poor girl,” Gaius said, shaking his head. “Did the shirt fail to meet with Arthur’s approval?”

“Something like that,” Merlin said.

“Gwen has suffered a lot in her young life. Do you think she’ll be very disappointed that there’s more work to be done?” Gaius asked.

Merlin clamped his lips closed and tried to look stern. _“Very_ disappointed,” he said. He couldn’t very well tell Gaius that Gwen seemed like she couldn’t care less whether she returned to Camelot or not. Nor that the new task Arthur had assigned Gwen was even more impossible to accomplish than the first.

“Well, you know the king’s wishes best,” Gaius said. “If he demands that Gwen do more, it is your duty to tell her—both as her friend, and as Arthur’s manservant.”

Merlin mulled over the word _manservant_ in his mind. A manservant who Arthur kissed—on the lips!

“Take heart,” Gaius said, patting Merlin’s shoulder. “The three of you have weathered worse storms. If you succeed in bringing Gwen back to Camelot, things can go back to normal, just like you wanted.”

“I hope so,” Merlin said.

“Merlin? You wouldn’t have used your magic to help Gwen with her task, would you?” Gaius asked.

“No, of course not,” Merlin said. “Magic is as illegal in Camelot as it ever was.”

“Hmmm….” Gaius said suspiciously.

“Gaius, I’m not foolish enough to risk my life just to bring a lovesick couple together,” Merlin insisted. “I use my magic only for Arthur, and that’s all I’ll ever use it for. I’m just talking to Arthur and Gwen about reconciling and hoping that they’ll listen to me. They’re meant to be together, aren’t they?”

“You seem to think so,” Gaius said.

That night, Merlin tossed and turned, even without the lingonberries.

Merlin dreamed himself in Arthur’s bedchamber, the king’s lips hot on his neck.

“You were a fool to try to repair my relationship with Gwen,” Arthur said.

Merlin moaned softly when Arthur’s teeth caught his earlobe and sucked sloppily enough to make Merlin squirm.

“Don’t you know that all I’ve ever wanted was you?” Arthur asked, his words of desire travelling straight to Merlin’s sleeping cock.

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned as he framed Arthur’s face in his hands. “I need to show you something.’

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the room suddenly became filled with tiny golden dragons that darted between the bedposts and perched atop the furnishings.

When Merlin next looked into Arthur’s eyes, they were filled with horror.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice echoed through his bedchamber, but the lush Camelot crimson sheets that decorated the King’s chambers were not found on his simple bed. No, Merlin’s bed was as plain and unadorned as ever. His bed had served as a resting place for an injured traveller or a triage post for Gaius to examine the bloody and battered who sought shelter with the physician and his apprentice. Now Merlin exhibited the same sweat-matted hair and the hollow expression of those who had gone to battle.

But his battle was more complicated than one fought on a field of war.

Merlin gazed around his simple quarters, the thin bedsheet pooling at his waist, the summer night requiring no heavy blanket or bed-warmer of hot coals stolen from the king’s chambers. Alone, Merlin took deep breaths as he tried to establish some feeling of normalcy.

He sipped from the cup of water at his bedside, the lukewarm liquid stagnant from the summer air in this lonely room of the castle. Above his desk the moonlight shone through the streaked pane of glass. The sun showed no sign of rising any time soon. Merlin slumped back into his mattress, the horsehair shifting with the jut of a hipbone and the shove of an elbow.

There were so many secrets that Arthur could never learn, no matter how fond of Arthur Merlin had become.

Merlin tried to settle himself. But the dream of his magic revealed made his heart beat more loudly than the drums that once echoed through the courtyard to signal the burning of a sorcerer on the pyre in the days when Uther ruled over Camelot. He pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on Arthur and the kiss they shared.

Merlin longed to kiss Arthur again. He imagined climbing the stairs to his chambers before morning broke, but he thought better of it. Arthur would be furious if Merlin awoke him now, running to his chambers like a girl to tell him that a frightening dream roused him from a sound sleep. Besides, there was Gwen to think about.

A liaison with Arthur should be the furthest thing from Merlin’s mind.

~

“Merlin, I have such fantastic news for you,” Gwen said.

Merlin could hardly believe it when Gwen rushed into his arms. He thought he’d have a hard time finding her, now that the grand Scarborough Fair was in full swing. The main road bustled with tourists and the cries of vendors as the hawked their wares. 

“I have news for you as well,” Merlin said, embracing his friend. “Good news and a bit of bad news—but nothing we can’t overcome together.”

“Tell me your good news first,” Gwen said, stepping back to let Merlin unshoulder the satchel of fresh herbs he had brought to market.

“The good news is that Arthur loved the shirt,” Merlin said happily. “And the bad—”

“Lancelot has come to Scarborough,” Gwen blurted out, her smile bright with joy.

“Oh,” Merlin said. “Oh, dear.” His enthusiasm dimmed as quickly as it had flared.

“Merlin, Lancelot is your friend,” Gwen said. “You must have been worried sick about him. I thought you’d be happy to know that he is well.”

“Yes, of course,” Merlin said. He looked around nervously at the surrounding stalls, full of shoppers and traders.

“He’s not here now, silly,” Gwen said, lightly punching Merlin’s arm. “He’s in Caerleon, training as one of Queen Annis’s guards. But he’ll be back to Scarborough as soon as he gets his first chance. I think he really loves me.”

Merlin’s eyes went wide. He didn’t want to disappoint Gwen, but he was sure that Gwen was destined to be with Arthur. He couldn’t allow this love affair with Lancelot to proceed. What was Gwen thinking? He had already risked his life by revealing his magic to her when they made the shirt. Didn’t that mean anything to her?

Of course Lancelot was appealing with his thick dark hair and his skill with the sword, but Arthur’s hair glowed like the sun, and his sword skills were twice those of Lancelot’s. Merlin could hardly believe that Gwen would risk disappointing the king.

“That’s awful,” Merlin said. “I mean, I’m glad someone loves you, but you’re wonderful Gwen—everyone loves you. I hope you’re not making a mistake by hoping that Lancelot will love you more than Arthur does.”

“Merlin!” Gwen said with her hands on her hips. “I would have thought a sensitive fellow like you would know that love doesn’t work that way. I’m not hoping for anything, I’m just delighted that Lancelot is doing well after our incident with Arthur.”

“I know,” Merlin said, “but it’s Arthur who you’re supposed to love.”

Gwen laughed, “You obviously don’t know the first thing about love then,” she said. “There are no strict rules about it. It’s about how you feel toward someone special.”

It was true that Merlin didn’t know much about the kind of love Gwen was going on about, but he dreaded bringing Arthur the disappointing news that Gwen had rebuffed his offer to return to his side.

Gwen didn’t even care enough to hear the bad news Merlin had brought. Before they could finish their discussion, one of the fair’s vendors, a man holding a broken chain, approached Gwen.

“Can you tell me where I can take this to be repaired?” he asked her, the metal jangling in his hands.

“What is it? It looks like something the smith can fix,” Gwen said.

“Yes, a smith ought to be able to do it,” the man said. 

“Well, then,” Gwen said, taking the man’s arm. “He’s a bit hard to find. I’ll take you there myself.”

“But, Gwen?” Merlin said.

“You can leave your herbs in my stall and I’ll tend to them later,” Gwen said. “I need to get back to my vendors.”

“But what about Arthur?” Merlin asked.

“I’m finished talking about him with you,” Gwen said. “Take a look around. Try to enjoy yourself.”

Merlin knew Gwen was doing her best to hide how annoyed she was with him. But what was he to do now? With Lancelot back in the picture and Arthur waiting in Camelot for Gwen to complete the next task, Merlin alone had the responsibility for bringing Gwen and Arthur back together.

He left his satchel of herbs and wandered among the stalls. Silken fabric of every colour hung from the stall beside Gwen’s workshop. Merlin let the soft fabric slide through his hands as he admired the rich designs and the pretty images that were rendered onto the silk. Further along, a woodworker displayed his carvings of animals that some lucky child would receive as a toy. 

Merlin walked through the centre of the village that had been transformed by the fair. Everyone seemed happy to sell their wares and to be able to purchase rare items that usually were not available to them.

Thoughts of Arthur weighed heavily on Merlin’s mind as he turned down a side road that led to the sea. He wanted Gwen and Arthur to reunite, but now that Lancelot had reappeared in Gwen’s life, it seemed less likely that Gwen would be willing to reconcile with Arthur.

And then, there was Arthur.

Merlin swept his thumb over his lips and remembered the kiss they had shared. He had tried to forget that it had happened at all, but he wondered if Arthur was truly sorry, blaming it on the wine, instead of his own feelings.

The road dipped ahead to where it met the sea. Merlin followed the worn path through the heather, descending at an angle toward the beach. To Merlin’s left, a stone wall separated the road from the sand, but on his right, the sandy shoreline stretched as far as Merlin could see.

The beachfront was quiet. It seemed like everyone within a ten mile radius of Scarborough had been sucked into the activities of the fair. A gentle breeze rose off the water and swept Merlin’s hair off his sweaty forehead.

He had ridden half the day to give Arthur’s message to Gwen, but it was no use. She likely had no intention of reconciling with him, not now that Lancelot was back in her life. She probably didn’t even want to return to Camelot.

Merlin sat in the grass that sprung up between the rocks by the sandy shore. He wrapped his hands around his knees and thought about what should be done. If he returned to Arthur without accomplishing the task he required of Gwen, Arthur would never allow Gwen back in Camelot. But maybe if he completed the task for Gwen, there was still hope that Gwen would return. She might want to visit Elyan someday.

Lancelot had always seemed nice enough to Merlin. But what if he rode off again, leaving Gwen behind in Scarborough, after she had given him her heart?

Gwen would need Arthur’s forgiveness and an end to their feuding. How else would they all get along together again? Arthur needed a partner. Gwen needed to become Arthur’s queen. Merlin knew what he had to do.

Taking a quick look around the seashore, Merlin couldn’t see anyone loitering far from the town centre. He held his right hand over the horizon and spoke. His eyes flared gold as the ancient words tumbled out of his mouth.

When he finished casting his spell, his lips were clamped shut, his jaw resolute, and a patch of dry land the size of an acre had risen from the ocean floor where once there had been only waves.

~

Merlin rode all night, without bothering to say goodbye to Gwen. When he reached Camelot, he left his horse with a stable-boy and hurried to Gaius’s workshop. The sun was just beginning to rise and he knew his mentor would wake soon, so he didn’t bother to be quiet.

In his room, he stripped off his soiled tunic and left it on the floor. Taking a fresh tunic from his cupboard, he hurried to the workshop and poured water into the basin. He washed quickly, splashing water onto his face with his hands.

Gaius woke and propped himself up on his cot. He looked surprised to see Merlin had returned to Camelot already.

“Merlin, what on earth are you doing?” Gaius asked. “I didn’t expect you to return for at least a few days.”

“I had to come back,” Merlin said. “I have more good news for Arthur. I just wanted to freshen up a bit before I saw him.”

Gaius looked sceptical. “As I recall, your news wasn’t received very well the last time you returned from Scarborough,” he said. Flinging off his blanket, he hunted around on the floor for his slippers.

For a brief moment, Merlin thought Gaius wouldn’t ask him what happened with Arthur’s latest request. He was thrilled with his accomplishment at bringing the land from the sea, but he didn’t want Gaius to find out that he used his magic for what Gaius would consider a foolish project.

“What have you done now, Merlin?” Gaius asked. “You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.”

“I did it. I completed the second task that Arthur expected Gwen to do,” Merlin said.

Gaius shoved his feet into his slippers and sat on the bed. “Merlin,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me that you performed the task in Gwen’s stead?

Merlin’s face dropped. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Merlin asked. “Arthur simply wanted the task to be completed. He never said anything about me helping Gwen or not. At least, I don’t think he meant it like that.”

Merlin scratched his head. 

Gaius’s eyebrow shot up. “And you haven’t told Arthur that you completed this additional chore he assigned to Gwen?”

“Not yet,” Merlin said. “I wanted to surprise him. He doesn’t know I’m back.”

Gaius sighed. “You need to sit down,” he said, motioning for Merlin to take a seat at the small table that was strewn with vials and scattered bundles of dried herbs.

Merlin pulled out his chair and sat. “I really need to get to Arthur,” he said. “He’ll be excited to hear the news.”

“You’re convinced that bringing Arthur and Gwen back together is the right thing to do?” Gaius asked, taking the seat across from Merlin.

Merlin traced a finger around one of the vials. “Well, yes. They belong together, don’t they?” he asked, although he feared that he knew exactly what Gaius was talking about. It was one thing to help Gwen, but if his mentor learned that he had used _magic_ to help Gwen accomplish the tasks, he would be very disappointed. “I want Arthur to be happy, and the way he’s been lately…. he loves Gwen,” Merlin said with a shrug.

“Merlin,” Gaius said with a raised an eyebrow. “I worry that you know very little about how love works.”

“Gwen said that to me, too,” Merlin said.

They remained in silence for a time, with Merlin staring out over the work table, his face twisted with confusion. The chirp of crickets floated through the castle windows, promising the end to summer and the beginning of harvest time.

“Are you sure that you didn’t fall and hit your head?” Gaius asked.

“No,” Merlin said. “Why ever would you think so?”

“I worry that you’re suffering from some kind of mental affliction,” Gaius said. “You’re so single-minded about bringing Gwen back to Camelot, you’re ignoring the very reason why she might not want to return.”

Merlin fidgeted in his seat. He hoped that Gaius wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable the questions made him.

“You think she loves Lancelot more than Arthur?” Merlin asked.

“It could be,” Gaius said. “You must be careful. It’s good of you to help Gwen get back together with Arthur, but you shouldn’t do so unless it is truly what’s in Gwen’s heart.”

“I promise to be careful,” Merlin said. “I’m just trying to get things back to normal. Now, I really need to get Arthur his breakfast,” Merlin said, pushing out his chair. “You know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

He left Gaius in his workshop and scrambled for the door. Knowing that Arthur would be awake soon, Merlin grabbed the laundry from the washing that hung in the kitchen and got a platter of breakfast foods from the cook.

He ran up the stairs to the king’s bedchamber with food, clothing, and the good news about the land, although Gaius’s caution made Merlin a bit nervous about revealing that the task had been completed.

~

Merlin caught the king just as he rose for the day. He set Arthur’s clothing aside and dropped a fresh square of linen beside Arthur’s plate. Then he went to the window and threw the draperies open to gaze out into the morning light.

“You won’t believe what good news I have for you today,” Merlin said happily.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said.

“That’s no way to greet your manservant,” Merlin said.

Arthur peered out from beneath his royal coverlet. “You’re not going to tell me that Gwen found the land I instructed you to tell her about,” Arthur said, wagging his finger at Merlin.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Sire,” Merlin said.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Arthur said, pulling the covers over his head.

It was almost like old times—the silly banter they would engage in long before Arthur sent Gwen away.

“You could listen to what I have to s—” Merlin began, but his words were cut off by Arthur.

“Merlin, that’s enough,” Arthur said. He pushed himself from the bed and stood on his feet, coming face to face with Merlin. “You’re lying. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the view from the stocks, hasn’t it? Don’t make this be the day when I send you to get reacquainted with them.”

“I was merely suggesting that you’d like to hear what Gwen accomplished so you can welcome her back,” Merlin said, raising his hands in surrender and taking a step backwards. “I was there when she secured the land. She’s amazing.”

“And I suggest that you spend the day mucking out my stables,” Arthur said. “It should give you plenty of time to think about why you insist on claiming that Gwen did any such thing.”

“You don’t believe me?” Merlin said. He sighed and began to fold the laundry he had brought to Arthur’s chambers. There had to be some way that he could convince Arthur that the acre of land existed, there above the sea in Scarborough.

“Have you seen my blue tunic?” Arthur asked. He paced in front of the wardrobe where Merlin had moved on to hanging his clothes, fresh from the castle laundry.

“I don’t think you have a blue tunic,” Merlin replied, taking another red tunic from where it lay across the chair. He held the garment up with outstretched hands and fussed with the sleeves until they were evenly draped on each side.

“I’m sure it was in here somewhere,” Arthur said. He stepped between the wardrobe and Merlin, grabbing at clothing that was folded and stored already in its place.

“Arthur—” Merlin tried to stop him, but it was too late. He’d have to begin the task again. At least the clothing remained clean this time. It hadn’t suffered from one of the king’s more destructive tirades that involved red wine or a plum pudding.

“Merlin, have you no idea how you are supposed to address your king?” Arthur asked, his hand clasped to his forehead in despair, the clothes strewn around his feet.

“Stop it, Arthur, you don’t mean that,” Merlin said, letting his anger about the rumpled clothes fuel his confidence. 

“Don’t tell me what I mean. I’m the king. It’s my job to give orders and your job to listen and obey,” Arthur said.

Merlin would have none of this. “Arthur, what’s happened to you? One day, you seemed destined to reign over Camelot in peace with Gwen. Then, you exile her. One day, you were my friend. Now, you’re pulling this power play on me. I miss you. I miss the _old_ you, and I think you miss the way things used to be too.”

Arthur planted his hands on his hips and pouted like a petulant child.

“There are responsibilities that come with being the king that you couldn’t possibly understand. I do what I must to run the kingdom. I must treat the subjects the way they should be treated—the way my father did. I must behave like a king—the way my father did. That’s what it means to be a great king. I cannot love someone, if the people will lose their respect for their king because of who I love,” Arthur said, before proceeding to rummage through the wardrobe again.

“Right,” Merlin nodded with a sarcastic grin on his face. “Your father was a great king.”

Merlin tried to get the image of sorcerers burning on a pyre out of his mind, tried not to imagine the feel of the axe blade as it struck a magic-user’s neck.

“He was a great king, Merlin. Don’t give me that look,” Arthur said. “It’s inappropriate.”

“I’m not giving you any kind of inappropriate look,” Merlin said with a laugh. He stooped to pick another garment off the floor for folding. He tried not to notice that a smile crossed Arthur’s lips. It seemed like it had been too long since he had seen joy on Arthur’s face.

“What would he do, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice grew quiet.

Merlin dropped the tunic he was holding. It fell to the floor with the other clothes that Arthur had left there.

“About what?” Merlin asked.

Arthur made no reply. A soft morning breeze swept through the open window of the bedchamber.

“I think you know what he would do,” Merlin said, his voice as gentle as possible. “He’d find a way to do what was right. That’s what a truly great king would do.”

Arthur leaned against the wardrobe. “And how exactly would he do that, Merlin?”

Merlin took a step toward Arthur. Merlin knew how much Arthur respected his father. If he could get Arthur to see reason by comparing himself to his father, he would try. “He’d find an answer that he could live with. Even if it meant throwing everything he believed in by the wayside. If he could see an answer that made sense to him, he’d embrace it. You could do the same thing.”

“How can I, Merlin? To cast off old ingrained beliefs... sometimes it’s simply impossible,” Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s no more impossible than when your father used sorcery to bring you into the world, and no more impossible than it was for him to order the purge that followed,” Merlin said. His heart pounded as he tried to convince Arthur to make a decision he wouldn’t regret. He wasn’t used to throwing around _sorcery_ so casually when the fear of Arthur learning about his magic haunted his daily thoughts.

“My father did what he thought was right. He cared about the people. I care about the people. I always have their best interests in mind. I’d lay down my life for them,” Arthur said.

“The people trust you to do what’s right,” Merlin said. “As much as you’d like to believe that you are as resolute as your father, you’re not. You’re doubtful and worried about perceptions. These feelings could be resolved if you would allow yourself to do this one thing. You need to forgive Gwen.”

Arthur’s eyes remained closed. His knees buckled and he let himself slide to the floor, bracing his back on the side of the wardrobe. When he came to a rest, he turned away from Merlin. “What if the people hate me for what I do?” he asked. “What if I haven’t I done enough for them to make them hold me in high esteem? What if it wasn’t enough to lose my mother… my father… Gwen…?”

“They couldn’t hate you,” Merlin said, dropping to his knees. He hesitated only momentarily before he touched his hand to Arthur’s shoulder in an effort to ground him, to show him that someone cared. And it wasn’t just for show, some pathetic display to obtain the king’s favour. Merlin did care. He cared especially when the people closest to Arthur had vanished from his life.

Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin. “And yet, you want me to forgive Gwen?”

“You need to find a way,” Merlin said.

Arthur seemed to relax at the feel of Merlin’s hand on his shoulder. Merlin hoped that his words were finally making sense to him.

“You can do it,” Merlin reminded Arthur.

“It’s up to me alone,” Arthur added, uncertainly.

“You’re not alone,” Merlin said, trying to encourage him.

“You know, Merlin,” Arthur said, reaching up and covering Merlin’s hand with his own. “Sometimes, I think you’re very wise.”

“You really think so?” Merlin asked.

“Either that, or you’re just very lucky,” Arthur said. His lips curled into a smile, one that Merlin had been sorely missing.

“Come on, you,” Merlin said. “It’s time to start your day. I won’t have the knights blaming me when you arrive late to the training field.”

Merlin turned his hand so Arthur’s palm lay flat against his. He stood up, his hand never breaking contact with Arthur’s. When he stood, he gave it small tug to draw the king to his feet.

“Go make your plans for the morning, while I pick up this mess,” Merlin said.

It didn’t take more than a moment for Merlin to realize that Arthur hadn’t let go of Merlin’s hand. Merlin’s eyes went to where their hands were joined. His own fingers were long and slim, nimble for gathering mushrooms, or picking herbs. Powerful for casting spells.

Arthur’s fingers were nearly the same length, but rough from years of practice with a sword, strong from the power he wielded over his kingdom.

Arthur’s hands were warm.

Merlin thought for certain that Arthur would laugh at their contact and release his hand. His eyes roamed from their hands to Arthur’s face. Merlin gasped with surprise when instead of letting go, Arthur pulled him closer and leaned to press his forehead against Merlin’s.

Merlin flushed from the intimacy of the contact. He felt Arthur’s breath, warm on his face.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked.

Merlin had never felt like he knew less about love than he did in that moment. He was in Arthur’s chambers, intent on telling him that Gwen had accomplished his task—the task for which Arthur would let her return to Camelot. But here he was, falling into Arthur’s arms, secretly hoping that Arthur wanted him the same way he wanted Arthur.

Merlin could barely breathe as he dared to surge forward to capture Arthur’s lips with his. After a moment, he was not disappointed when Arthur gave a soft moan while tasting his mouth, the press of his warm tongue sweeping across Merlin’s lips before thrusting inside in a clash of teeth. The sounds Arthur made slid down Merlin’s spine and made his cock grow hard in his breeches.

Arthur met Merlin breath for breath, his hands clutching at Merlin’s tunic. He tugged at the fabric until his hands met with the warm skin of Merlin’s back.

Merlin pulled away for air, his teeth scraping Arthur’s jaw while Arthur left a trail of kisses down his smooth neck. Gwen and the tasks she was charged to complete were long forgotten.

“I want you,” Arthur said, his breath warm in Merlin’s ear.

“And do you always get what you want?” Merlin asked.

“You would question your king?” Arthur asked teasingly, his teeth grazing Merlin’s earlobe.

“Do you always treat your servants with such authority?” Merlin asked.

“As if I can control you,” Arthur said with a light chuckle.

Merlin couldn’t keep from breaking into a brilliant smile.

“Your wish is my command, my Lord,” Merlin said.

Arthur didn’t need to utter another word. Merlin gave him a tiny shove and they both tumbled onto the bed.

Arthur wrapped a hand around Merlin’s shoulders and rotated him so he lay on his back with Arthur sprawled out on top of him, hot with morning heat and wanting.

Merlin let his hips cant upward to rub his cock against Arthur. For so many nights, he had dreamed of what it would feel like to have Arthur’s weight pressing him into the mattress of his royal bed. And now his dream was coming true. The fragrant scent of Arthur’s hair filled Merlin’s head as he sunk back into the plush pillows. The taste of Arthur’s lips on his was intoxicating.

Arthur’s hand found Merlin’s warm belly. He palmed at Merlin’s cock through his breeches, the fabric straining against the unmistakable bulge of swollen desire.

“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur said, pressing his lax mouth to Merlin’s chest, his flank, his belly. When he arrived at his journey’s end, down into the folds of Merlin’s breeches, he softly bit at the strained seam.

Merlin whined in response to the heat of Arthur’s mouth against his most intimate flesh.

“Hasn’t anyone ever let you put your cock in their mouth?” Arthur asked.

Merlin moaned, his only answer to Arthur’s question. His thighs trembled with anticipation.

Arthur fumbled with the laces of Merlin’s breeches. It seems like his single-minded ambition was to find how long it would take for him to make his manservant fall apart.

“Arthur,” Merlin cried out when Arthur’s hand found the warm hard cock that lay beneath Merlin’s clothes.

“No one, Merlin?” Arthur said, blowing gently on the beaded drops that escaped from Merlin’s slit.

Merlin heard the teasing in Arthur’s voice. He wanted to shout at him to get on with it, but just as he took a breath, Arthur licked Merlin’s cock from root to tip.

“Not a pretty maid from the tavern? Not one of the sweet stableboys? Surely there were many of them whose mouth ached to taste you,” Arthur teased as he rolled Merlin’s balls in the palm of one hand.

“No one, Arthur,” Merlin moaned, “they never wanted me.”

Arthur was silent and Merlin felt his heart clench. It was a sad truth that Merlin had been too busy tending to Arthur’s needs and serving his king. He never sought to be with someone intimately.

“Only you,” he whispered, softly enough so Arthur wouldn’t hear.

“You dreamed of it though, didn’t you?” Arthur asked. His tongue darted forward to lick at the slick trail of stickiness that seeped from Merlin’s prick. That earned him a groan that rumbled from Merlin’s chest and made his body shudder from top to tail.

“You imagined what it would feel like for someone to suck your cock,” Arthur said. “For _me_ to suck your cock.”

It was as if Arthur knew he was tormenting Merlin with his questioning—and he loved to see him squirm.

Arthur undoubtedly got a thrill to know that he was the first person to ever see Merlin undone like this. Merlin had confessed that no one had ever tasted him _there_ before. Arthur probably doubted that Merlin had put a hand to himself in all the years that had passed since he came into his service.

“Please,” Merlin gasped. “By all the gods, please touch me.”

And for once, Arthur obeyed. He took Merlin deep into his mouth and lavished attention on his cock.

Merlin frantically gripped the bedclothes. Both joy and regret spiralled through his thoughts. He wanted to cry out an apology to Arthur. He was sorry for lying to him, sorry for lying all along, about his feelings about Arthur, about Gwen, about magic.

Most of all, Merlin regretted that he was supposed to be on Gwen’s side. He was supposed to be helping the couple resolve their differences so they could live happily in Camelot again, but instead, Merlin found himself luxuriating in the king’s bed.

If he lost Arthur’s friendship over this, he didn’t care whether he burned on the pyre or not.

“Arthur,” Merlin cried, deciding that he wished to burn happily in the flames of love.

Merlin had hoped to extend his pleasure, but the sensation of Arthur’s lips on his cock was too much. His cock pulsed with the force of his orgasm, filling Arthur’s mouth with his warm come.

Arthur swallowed deeply and licked the mess from Merlin’s belly. He pressed kisses as we moved from waist to nipple to mouth while Merlin shuddered through the aftershocks.

Merlin moved quickly to repay the favour of Arthur’s attention. He manoeuvred his way from beneath Arthur until they were both on their sides. Merlin let his fingers trail over the muscles of Arthur’s chest. He pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s neck, taking time to flick his tongue over the salty skin.

Arthur’s cock prodded warmly against Merlin’s thigh. Slick with moisture that eased from its tip, his cock left a sticky trail on Merlin’s skin.

Merlin’s palm skated down Arthur’s body to take his cock in hand. Even after all the years of bathing together on hunts and sharing quarters outside the castle, Merlin was surprised by the beauty of it. Long and pale with its flushed pink head peeking out from Arthur’s tight foreskin.

Arthur arched up to meet Merlin as he pressed forward, a small moan escaping his lips. He didn’t last nearly as long as Merlin had. Come sprayed over Merlin’s fist and onto the bedclothes. 

“This land you’ve come to tell me about,” Arthur said, when they both lay in each other’s arms after their breathing settled.

“Yes?” Merlin asked, threading his fingers with Arthur’s. He could barely remember why he had come to Arthur’s bedchamber in the first place this morning.

“The next time you travel back to Scarborough… tell her to plough it with a ram's horn, and sow it all over with one peppercorn,” Arthur said.

“Anything else, Sire?” Merlin asked, still dazed from their lovemaking.

“Tell her to shear it with a sickle of leather,” Arthur said, his voice sleepy, “and gather it all in a bunch of heather. Tell her to thrash it on yonder wall, and never let one corn of it fall.”

Merlin was too worn out to care about the puzzle of Arthur’s words. He settled into Arthur’s embrace and fell asleep.

~


	4. Chapter 4

_Tell her to gather it all in a sack,_  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;  
And carry it home on a butterfly’s back,  
And then she’ll be a true love of mine. 

Merlin was greeted by the last person he expected to see in Scarborough.

“You remember Lancelot, of course,” Gwen said. Her cheeks blushed prettily when she took Lancelot’s arm and led him to Merlin.

“Of course,” Merlin said. He stepped forward to greet Lancelot, holding out his hand. He smiled when, instead of bracing his hand to Merlin’s forearm, Lancelot pulled Merlin into a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much, my friend,” Lancelot said.

Merlin could hear the sincerity in Lancelot’s voice.

With the tension broken, Merlin sighed with relief that the three of them were still friends. Whatever had transpired between Arthur, Gwen, and Lancelot, had been put aside in the weeks that had passed.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Merlin said, holding Lancelot tight. He was sorry to see that Lancelot had exchanged the crimson cloak of Camelot’s knights for the rich blue wool of Caerleon’s guards. A soft fur trim decorated its hem. Lancelot looked striking in it and Merlin could understand why Gwen only had eyes for him.

“I understand you’re trying to get Arthur to allow Gwen back to Camelot,” Lancelot said when he stepped back from Merlin’s embrace.

“I am,” Merlin said. “I’m working on it, at least. You know how stubborn Arthur can be.”

“Not stubborn,” Lancelot said. “He’s decisive and committed. It’s one of the things that make him a great king.”

Merlin nodded. He hadn’t expected Lancelot to be so gracious in his views about Arthur.

“I would have liked to serve him for much longer than I was allowed, but alas,” Lancelot said, his eyes meeting Gwen’s, “it was not possible.”

A heavy silence hung between them. If not for the shouts of vendors, the bargaining shoppers, and the sound of coins being dropped into pouches, Merlin feared that he would blurt out what a fool Arthur had been to drive his best knight away. Instead, he remembered the morning spent in Arthur’s bed. His prick still twitched every time he thought about Arthur’s ministrations.

“Perhaps he’ll come to his senses,” Merlin said.

“I hope so,” Gwen said. “I’d like to be able to return to Camelot to visit my brother. It seems unfair that Elyan should suffer because of something I’ve done.”

“Yes, Gwen tells me that you used some of your _special talents_ to make a shirt of some sort,” Lancelot said. “Do you know if your efforts have brought Arthur any closer to letting Gwen return? She has many friends in Camelot that she’d like to visit after the fair.”

“I’m not really sure what he’s thinking,” Merlin said. It seemed so strange to be speaking to two people who knew about his magic. Merlin felt lighter, as if a dark cloud that had followed him from Ealdor to Camelot had suddenly been lifted. Gwen and Lancelot would always be his dearest friends. Their joy at being reunited overwhelmed Merlin. He wished that he could share in their happiness, but he had Arthur to think about. 

“Well, we know you’re doing your best to help,” Lancelot said, clapping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“You always do your best where Arthur is concerned,” Gwen said, smiling brightly. “Now, where are your herbs? I have a pouch filled with coins for the things in your stall that have sold since yesterday.”

Merlin couldn’t believe that it was only yesterday that he had been in Scarborough, trying to complete the tasks that would allow Gwen to return to Camelot. In his haste to return and fulfil Arthur’s wishes, he had neglected to check with Gaius to see if he had any more herbs for him to deliver.

“Herbs?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, and we’ll need more of the poultices too,” Gwen said. She stooped to reach beneath the table in her stall where the absent vendors’ earnings were kept. “It was very clever to make up the dry poultices in advance.”

“It was Gaius’s idea,” Merlin said, not wanting to take credit for the idea that would keep Gaius from having to ride from village to village whenever someone strained their back or suffered from sweating sickness. 

“Yes, Gwen was telling me that people could simply purchase them ahead of time and soak them in hot water when they needed a poultice remedy at home. It’s truly ingenious,” Lancelot said.

“I’m glad they’re selling so well,” Merlin said. “In fact, I need to get back to Camelot right away to make more of them for our stall.”

“You can’t leave already,” Gwen said, handing over a pouch of coins. “Lancelot has just come from Caerleon. Won’t you stay the night?”

“I can’t,” Merlin said. “I should get back to Camelot to get more herbs.”

“Please,” Lancelot said. “Gwen tells me there’s a feast every night in the mead hall. I bet they have those lingonberry tarts that you love so much! And there are so many things to see at the fair. I’ve been in Scarborough since early this morning and I still haven’t seen all the wares offered for sale.”

“If you’ll stay the night, I can find you a bed at Lord Simeon’s castle,” Gwen said. “He has most of his men watching over the fairgrounds in the evening, so he has plenty of empty rooms for weary travellers.”

A soft bed sounded good to Merlin. He had ridden back and forth from Camelot twice these past days and his arse was sore. But he couldn’t stay here and convince himself that he wanted Arthur to welcome Gwen back to his home and his heart.

“I’d love to,” Merlin said, “but I really must get back to Camelot.”

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Gwen said, pulling him into an embrace. “Try to enjoy the fair while you’re here. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

~

Merlin took Gwen’s advice and wandered the fairgrounds. He felt bad that Gaius was too old and frail to make the journey to Scarborough, where he could enjoy the fair. After travelling the distance himself twice in as many days, Merlin’s back felt like that of an old man. It felt good to walk around and admire the talents of the craftspeople from different kingdoms.

He visited the stalls and used a few coins to purchase a collection of spices that Gaius would enjoy using when he cooked, more linen to make poultices, and some leather lacings that Gaius could use to replace the ones that were old and worn and barely kept the old man’s boots tight. At least this trip to Scarborough wouldn’t be wasted, even if he couldn’t bear to tell Gwen that Arthur had yet more demands to make of her. And even if Gwen performed the new tasks, Merlin now had little hope of things returning to normal in Camelot.

In the heat of the afternoon, Merlin walked the roads of Scarborough, wondering where he had gone wrong. He had come here in hopes of reuniting Gwen and Arthur, but now, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.

Was it so terrible that Gwen loved Lancelot more than she did Arthur? They certainly seemed happy together, although Gwen still wanted to be able to return to Camelot to visit Elyan and the friends she left behind.

Summer wouldn’t last much longer after the fair ended. When winter came, travel would be more difficult between Camelot and Scarborough. He owed it to Gwen to do his best to make Arthur see that the loss of her heart didn’t mean that he had to lose her friendship forever.

Merlin found himself on the road to the quiet waterfront. A breeze blew off the water and dissipated the heat of the day. A dozen sheep grazed in the heather that bordered the road. They scampered out of Merlin’s way when they saw him approach. Most people had gone to the mead hall for an early supper, Merlin suspected. He licked his lips, thinking of lingonberries.

He passed the docks and followed the winding path to the seashore. He dreaded the return to Camelot, where he would disappoint Arthur again with news of the failed tasks.

Try as he might, Merlin couldn’t forget the morning he had spent in Arthur’s bed. He flushed at the memory of Arthur sucking his cock. Thoughts of his plump lips and his warm mouth sent shivers through Merlin. Merlin had never thought of himself as a bedslave before, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say that he would be first in line to apply for the job if Arthur made such a position available. It would be a thrill to languish in Arthur’s soft bed all day. And in the evening, he would do his best to get his king’s attention. Merlin told himself that he could be very creative if need be.

He glanced behind himself to make sure he wasn’t being followed. When he verified that the road was empty, save for the sheep, he reached into his breeches to adjust himself before continuing his walk.

Soon, he reached the place he had wanted to tell Arthur about when he last visited his chambers. The acre of land he had brought forth from the sea lay barren in the afternoon sun. He strode across the beach, his boots sinking into the sand. Finding a seat on a patch of grass, he hugged his knees and let his tears flow.

He wondered how things had gone so horribly wrong. He only wanted for Gwen to return to Camelot and for Arthur to be his usual prattish self again. But now things had become so much more complicated.

A few of the woolly sheep had wandered down into the grass by the beach. Merlin sobbed as he watched them nibble on the vegetation. He only wanted to be happy again. Yet Arthur’s happiness was Merlin’s reward—the only reward Merlin had ever wished for himself.

Looking out over the empty stretch of land that he had created, an idea struck Merlin. If Gwen wouldn’t reunite with Arthur to become his true love, perhaps there was another true love that Arthur would find suitable? At once he knew he had to try to summon this dreamlike lover from Arthur’s poetic wishes. Maybe _he_ could even _be_ Arthur’s lover. It seemed too much to hope for, and Merlin blushed for thinking of it. Merlin was just a distraction to Arthur. A bedmate who shared one morning of shenanigans in the king’s bed. Merlin had heard of such dalliances happening before in other kingdoms where the king was not as proper as Arthur.

Oh, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if Arthur loved Merlin enough to take him to bed every night? Merlin could think of no other plan that would fulfil the king’s wishes more satisfactorily, than to find him the lover he desired. And for the first time, Merlin hoped it could be him.

Merlin wiped his eyes and tried to remember what Arthur had said to him before he left Camelot.

“Something about ploughing the land with a ram’s horn,” Merlin sniffled.

He watched the sheep that had been grazing on the heather. There were a few rams among them.

Merlin got to his feet and waited for the sheep to wander closer. After checking the horizon to make sure he wasn’t followed, Merlin kept his eyes on a fat white ram with horns that curled back from his head in a spiral.

“That’s it,” Merlin said. “Come closer…”

He held his hand over the grazing animal and, whispering words of magic, he willed the ram to move.

“There you go, old fellow,” Merlin said as he used his magic to guide the ram closer to his patch of land that needed seeding.

Merlin waited until the ram buried a horn into the soft new earth before he dug through his satchel for the spices he had purchased for Gaius. There was cinnamon and ginger, nutmeg and mustardseed, and deep within Merlin’s bag, he found the tiny pouch of black peppercorns.

“Arthur’s poem only required one peppercorn,” Merlin said, remembering.

He took one tiny pebbled seed from the pouch and buried it carefully where the ram had dug the hole.

After his eyes flared gold, Merlin’s arms rested at his side. Even with Merlin’s most powerful magic in use, it would take time for the peppercorn to sprout. As darkness fell, he tucked his jacket under his head as a pillow and settled into his grassy bed beside the sea.

~

Merlin awoke when the first sun’s rays broke over the horizon. From the sea, the gentle waves had rolled into the shore with the tide, and Merlin considered himself lucky that he didn’t get his feet wet while he slept. He knew the activity in the fair would be starting soon, although at this early hour, the centre of the marketplace lay quiet.

He yawned and stretched, barely daring to look across to the land that had risen from the sea. When he caught the first glimpse of his crop, he laughed. Under the influence of his magic, one tiny pepper plant had emerged in the night while he slept.

The green leaves had pushed through the earth and the single plant stood like a tiny tree with dozens of black clustered berries. Merlin grabbed his satchel and ran across the beach to admire his work.

He touched the delicate leaves with cautious fingers. “Perfect,” he said.

Above the waves, a seagull hovered, in search of an easy meal.

Merlin reached into his bag and found the leather bootlaces he had purchased for Gaius. “I’ll give you your sickle of leather,” he said, stretching the leather lacings out between both hands.

He knelt in the dirt and caught the stem of the peppercorn plant with his lace. With one sharp tug, he had separated the plant from its stalk. He didn’t even have to use his magic to do it. Dropping the lace on the ground, Merlin held the plant in the air triumphantly.

Merlin thought Arthur would be surprised if he knew his manservant wasn’t entirely useless when it came to fulfilling such an elaborately detailed task. Sometimes Merlin impressed himself with his wit and his perseverance. He could only hope that someday soon Arthur would notice his skills and understand the lengths he would go to, in order to please his king.

Merlin tucked the plant under one arm and trotted back to where he had bedded down for the night. He grabbed his jacket and the rest of his belongings and carried them to the wall that separated the road from the sea. Dropping his things on the flat stones, he began to pick at the heather that grew along the wall.

The sun rose higher in the sky while Merlin worked.

When he had picked enough heather to form what might be considered a reasonable bunch, he surrounded the peppercorn plant in its embrace. Without delay, Merlin thrashed his bouquet thoroughly on the wall, using his magic to never let one of the peppercorns fall, no matter how they loosened themselves from the assembly of sprigs.

When he finished, Merlin held the corns suspended in mid-air with his magic while he found one of the small linen sacks that had contained the purchases he had made for Gaius. Holding the sack beneath the peppercorns, he scooped the sack upward and swiftly knotted it tight. Not one peppercorn had fallen.

“So far, so good,” Merlin said under his breath. He wiped his brow with a sleeve of his tunic before considering the most difficult part of the task.

“And carry it home on a butterfly’s back,” Merlin said, pondering aloud.

He sat on the edge of the wall and watched the sea. There were no butterflies by the shoreline. And the heather didn’t seem to attract their fluttering presence either.

The sounds of the awakened marketplace drifted from the village centre where the fair had come alive. Merlin wondered what Gwen and Lancelot were doing this morning. He hoped that they weren’t too worried about him when he didn’t bother to say goodbye yesterday. They probably thought he had arrived in Camelot by now.

Merlin huffed out a weary breath. He held his hands over the seaside and tried to summon a butterfly. A few gulls stood in the surf, but no butterfly came.

Merlin stood and faced the fields where the sheep had last been seen. He whispered a spell that might coax a butterfly from hiding. But there was nothing. Only the sound of gentle waves broke the silence of the seashore.

It was futile.

Merlin was disappointed in himself. Even if Merlin summoned a butterfly, no matter how large, he worried that it would never be able to carry him and the peppercorn seeds all the way back to Camelot anyway, whether he used his magic or not.

Merlin sat back down on the wall and dug the toes of his boots into the soft sand.

It was hopeless. Merlin would never win Arthur’s affection, even if he performed these tasks Arthur required of his true love. His morning of work was for nothing. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He may as well just go back to the village, give Gwen the peppercorns and collect his horse from the stables. He wasn’t sure what to tell Arthur when he returned home.

Unless there was some other way he could think of to carry the seeds home on a butterfly’s back.

Merlin suddenly had an idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He jumped to his feet, tilted his head back, and called to the skies, “O, Dragon! E male, soi ftengometta tesd hup anakess!”

The shadow of Kilgharrah’s wings soon crossed the beach, shading Merlin where he stood. When the shadow passed, Merlin had to block his eyes from the bright midday sun. He watched as the great dragon landed on the beach, sending up a spray of powdery sand when his feet touched down.

Merlin ran across the beach to greet him.

“Young warlock,” Kilgharrah said, “you requested my services?”

“Kilgharrah, I need your help,” Merlin said.

“What else is new?” Kilgharrah asked. He didn’t seem particularly perturbed by the gulls that had taken flight and circled his head.

“It’s not funny,” Merlin said, the sack with the peppercorns firm in his grasp. “I need you to take me back to Camelot. I need to deliver these peppercorns there.”

“Has Arthur done something to rile you again?” Kilgharrah asked, beating his wings above the sand.

Merlin had to close his eyes to prevent the sand from stinging them.

“No, he’s done nothing,” Merlin said, although Arthur was the person responsible for Merlin’s distress. If only he hadn’t banished Gwen, driven Lancelot off, and taken Merlin to bed, none of this ridiculous Scarborough Fair business would be happening. Merlin just wanted to go home. He didn’t even care if Arthur’s love poem involved him. Although he would miss the way Arthur looked at him when he first kissed him.

“Then, why the rush, young warlock?” Kilgharrah asked.

“You’re no butterfly, but you’ll have to do,” Merlin said, grabbing his jacket and his satchel of goods. “Now, let me climb on your back so we can go.”

“I could take you back to Camelot, young warlock,” Kilgharrah said. “But it appears that Camelot has come to you.”

“What?” Merlin asked.

He turned back toward the road where he saw Gwen and Lancelot heading to the beachfront from the marketplace. Leading the way, King Arthur ran toward Merlin with his sword drawn.

~

Merlin turned and waved his hands at Kilgharrah, trying to shoo him away, but it was too late. The great dragon had already been seen by Merlin’s friends.

Visions of his own death sped through Merlin’s mind. He had dreamed that this day would come someday—when Arthur would find out his secret and sentence him to death for practicing sorcery. He had hoped to avoid the king’s justice for many years, but now it seemed that the ruse was up.

With each footfall in the sand, Arthur got closer to Merlin, and Merlin got closer to death.

Merlin wished that Gwen could run faster. He wanted to have the opportunity to ask her to get word to Hunith that her son died a painless death at the king’s hand, even if it was neither quick nor painless. Tears pricked Merlin’s eyes when he thought of his mother. He may have been such a fool when it came to matters of love, but he always tried to help the ones he loved best. Merlin hoped that Gwen could tell Hunith he was sorry and that he never meant for things to go so horribly wrong.

Merlin couldn’t watch his friends. He hung his head low. He could hear Gwen shouting for him, but he didn’t dare look up from the sand.

And as for Arthur, Merlin’s heart would break if he had to look into those blue eyes that he loved so much. It would be better to feel the slice of cold steel against his neck when Arthur struck his head from his body. It would be best if, in his final moments, Merlin didn’t sense how deeply he had disappointed Arthur, the person he cared for most in the world.

Merlin barely acknowledged the warm rush of air when Arthur’s cloak swept past him. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.

“Get away from him!” Arthur shouted.

At first, Merlin was confused about who _him_ was, and why Merlin had to get away. He blinked back his tears and looked from the sand to where Arthur held Kilgharrah at bay with his sword.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked, grabbing Merlin’s arm with his other hand.

Merlin dumbly stared at Arthur’s hand as it patted his tunic as if he was checking to see if Merlin was hurt. He wondered why Arthur hadn’t yet chopped off his head, when Lancelot joined Arthur and stood on the beach between Merlin and Kilgharrah.

Gwen caught up to the men and grabbed hold of Merlin’s hand. She tugged on him and tried to drag him away from the dragon.

“I can tell when I’m not wanted,” Kilgharrah said with a shake of his head. He began to flap his wings, stirring the beachfront so the sand became a storm of stinging pellets.

Merlin watched as Arthur dropped his sword and spread his cloak wide. He saw Lancelot rush to protect Gwen from the onslaught of flying sand. Merlin could hardly believe it when Arthur pulled him into an embrace and wrapped the cloak around the both of them, shielding them from the spray of sand.

Outside their cocoon, Merlin could hear Kilgharrah’s wings flapping as he took to the air. The heat from Arthur’s proximity made Merlin shudder. His familiar scent and the brush of Arthur’s hair against Merlin’s cheek made Merlin’s heart break.

Losing Arthur’s love would be too much for Merlin to bear.

When the dust settled from Kilgharrah’s departure, Merlin felt Arthur let his cloak drop back onto his shoulders. He took a half-step back and left the shelter of Arthur’s arms. Tears streamed down Merlin’s face. He sobbed, unable to control his sadness at losing Arthur’s love. The sadness was more powerful than the fear of losing his life.

“Merlin, are you hurt?” Gwen asked. She rushed to Merlin and embraced him.

“I don’t think so,” Merlin said, wrapping his arms around Gwen and burying his face in her hair. “I’m fine, except for…”

Merlin turned to look at Arthur. Beside him on the beach, Lancelot stood thumping Arthur on the back, congratulating him for driving Kilgharrah away.

Arthur sheathed his sword and clasped Lancelot’s shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without your help,” Arthur said.

Both men were smiling.

“What’s going on here, Gwen?” Merlin asked, wiping his eyes.

“Thanks to you, I think they’ve resolved their differences,” Gwen said confidently.

“Oh, I very much doubt that,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “I think they’ll be fighting over your affection for a long time to come.”

“And I plan to have Gwen’s affection for a long time to come,” Arthur said, returning to Merlin’s side.

“But what about you?” Merlin asked, turning his attention to Lancelot, who had replaced Merlin in Gwen’s embrace.

Gwen stepped forward and took Merlin’s hand. “I couldn’t stay with Arthur in Camelot when I realized how much I loved Lancelot,” she said.

“Gwen and I were never meant for each other,” Arthur said, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “Unfortunately, I treated her with something less than _understanding_ when I discovered that truth.”

“I would have stayed with you forever, Arthur,” Gwen said, “but when Lancelot returned to Camelot, I knew my love for you would be a lie that I couldn’t live with.”

Lancelot tightened his arms around Gwen. Merlin was pleased to see that their issues were resolving before his very eyes. Maybe Arthur could find it in himself to allow Gwen back in Camelot one day, after all. He felt a little relief that his wish for her return seemed to be coming true. 

“I’m still angry with you for banishing me,” Gwen said, haughtily.

Arthur looked at the ground in front of his feet.

“I was angry at you for all the wrong reasons,” Arthur said. “I was too proud to have people believe that you left me. It was humiliating. If I banished you, I wouldn’t have to face my own truth.”

“You’ve always been a stubborn man,” Gwen said, shaking her head.

“So Gwen loved Lancelot, but she would have stayed with you anyway?” Merlin asked Arthur.

“Until I returned and messed up both of your plans,” Lancelot said, apologetically.

“You didn’t mess up our plans,” Gwen said, batting at his hand. “I couldn’t resist my feelings for you, any more than Arthur could have chosen me over Merlin.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open. “Oh, no,” he said. “Arthur didn’t choose me of his own free will. It was the tasks.” Merlin ducked out of Arthur’s embrace, his boots kicking up the loose sand.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose.

“It was the tasks I completed for Gwen so you would take her back,” Merlin said, stumbling backwards. “I used my magic to make the shirt and to find the land. And the peppercorns are right there in that sack waiting for me to bring them to Camelot on a butterfly’s back.”

“Magic?” Arthur asked.

“Ummm… I think there’s something you should know about,” Merlin said.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin.

“Not to rub it in, Sire,” Lancelot said. “But we already knew about it and we still love Merlin. He’s still our friend.”

Arthur took a step toward Merlin.

“You can’t hurt him, Arthur,” Gwen said. “You love him.”

Arthur’s hands went to his hips.

Merlin truly thought Arthur would draw his sword at any moment. At least he could die happy, knowing that he finally confessed about his magic to Arthur after all these years of lies.

“It wasn’t real love,” Merlin cried. “It was the magic.”

Arthur reached forward and grabbed Merlin by the shoulders.

“You complete and utter idiot,” Arthur shouted.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, his voice a whisper.

“I sent you to ask Gwen to perform the tasks that I did, because I _knew_ she couldn’t complete them,” Arthur said.

Merlin could feel Arthur’s breath on his face, their lips inches apart.

“But why would you have done something like that?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s jaw dropped and his head swayed from side to side, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Because I love you, you fool,” Arthur said. “I’ve always loved you. I just never dared to show it before now.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, his shoulders sagging with relief. He could hardly believe that everything he had worked for was for naught. A smile broke out on his face.

“Just wait until we get back to Camelot,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin into an embrace. “I’m going to arm Gwen and Lancelot with the biggest supply of spoiled fruit in the five kingdoms.”

“After all this, you’re sending me to the stocks?” Merlin asked. He nuzzled Arthur’s neck and dared to leave a kiss on the hot skin.

“How else can I make you stop trying to reunite Gwen and I?” Arthur asked, tilting his head to look at Merlin.

Merlin could hardly believe his ears. After all he had done to reunite his friends, it turned out that he really had to do nothing at all, except to look into his own heart. Arthur loved him.

“I suppose you have a point,” Merlin said. “But wait, does that mean that Gwen can move back to Camelot?”

“Only if she’s sure that she can put up with you,” Arthur said.

Merlin could hear Gwen and Lancelot’s laughter when Arthur took Merlin into his arms and kissed him breathless. He was only a little worried about having to explain to Arthur about the dragon. But the Scarborough Fair was far from over and they still had a long ride back to Camelot.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Scarborough Fair was written for the After Camlann Big Bang and as a fill for this Kink Me Merlin prompt: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/13287.html?thread=11571687#t11571687 Thanks to my talented artist rishimakapur, my cheerleader gilli_ann, my proofreader gibbous_moon, and my wonderful beta lawgoddess.


End file.
